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POEMS 



BY 



Josiah Giberton English 




XENIA, OHIO 



1888. 




~eD 



£7 



I Entered according to Act of C!ongress, in tlie year 1888, by 

1 Josiah Giherton English. in tlie office of tlie Librarian of 

J Congress, at Washington. 



INDEX. 



In trod uctory 4 

A Talk with Grandma 8 

The Mullen Place 10 

A Christmas Story 15 

To the Memory of Mary Wenimons 32 

Pig, Polk and Pop 34 

Government Shot in the Ear 38 

Nunnemaker 40 

A Tribute to Lighttoot 43 

Democracy 44 

The Whip-poor-will Shoe 45 

Where They Played when Boys near Felicity, 

Clermont County 46 

Written on the Kingdoms — Animal and Veget- 
able 40 

Learn to Condense 51 

Ax at the Eoot of the Tree 51 

Angelina 52 

Joe Burnett 54 

To the Memory of Albert Sidnej^ Johnson 02 

The Gadite's Flight 04 

The Deity Flower -. 06 

Grammar for Children 08 

Definition of Vibrate 100 

One Fingered Tim 103 

The Bonner Place 124 

Unknown 136 

Soul Immortal Flee Away 138 

Sacred to the Memory of Eliza, Wife of the 

Author of this Book 138 

Pollie and her Wheel 139 

Love at First Sisht 141 



3 

When Youth Makes us Glad and Age Makes 

us Sad 142 

The Wheel of Time 144 

Commanding What is Eight and Prohibiting 

What is Wrong .. ^ 144 

A Poet's Find 146 

A Mother's Dream 147 

Star, City, Babe 149 

Tim's Soliloquy 151 

Gambling Dispatches 153 

Wearing a Doubt 154 

Garibaldi and his Eider, Captain Thompson. ..156 



INTRODUCTORY. 



A SKETCH OF THE HISTOEY OF 
JOSIAH GIBEETON ENGLISH, 



AUTHOR OF THIS POEM. 



I was born in Camden County ; 
- New Jerpey is my native State; 
November, eighteen thirty-three, 

Family record gives the date. 
Came I over hill and mountain ; 

Left I Jersey sand and shore ; 
Parted I witn pine and cedar ; 

Lost to ear the billows' roar. 

My coming here was not my choosing ; 

Mother led me by the hand. 
Father came some time before us. 

Viewing out the goodly land ; 
Eented he a farm of Parish, 

Provided well for us to come ; 
Poor man, his death was soon to follow, 

Breaking up our western home. 

One sweet ride I took with father — 
One sweet ride remembered still ; 

'Twas when he drove old Jack to the wagon, 
Hauling grain to Pepper's mill. 



Soon after that I followed him 

To where was dug a long, deep grave ; 
Spake he not to his boy then, 

Or ever a time his hand he srave. 



to" 



I've often asked the world this question : 

"What shall I render to my God ? " 
Knowing well this mortal body 

Soon shall mold beneath the sod. 
The question first I asked of mother. 

(Father died when 1 a child) 
Could not then put words together, 

Could only know that lather smiled. 

Grrew out of the talk with mother and child 

All that's sacred to my soul ; 
Never I wore the priestly vestment; 

Never I drank from golden bowl. 
Holy prophets was I told of; 

Never they prophesied for me. 
But the ways that mother taught me 

Cast their lot for me to see. 

Learned I young to weigh misfortune 

In the balance of all truth ; 
Saw I plain the heavenly kingdom 

Should be taught in early youth. 
Began I then to lisp a prayer 

That God would lead me thro' this world 
And help me to escape the danger 

When Satan's darts were at me hurled. 

Grew 1 up to shun the evil ; 

Walked I in the path of right. 
Morning dawned quite fair upon me; 

Darkness came before 'twas night. 



The scenes of life grew thick of shadow, 

Denser cloud to plain of life ; 
Then I married fairest woman 

That to fancy made a wife. 

Still had God my heart estranged 

From the way of most of world ; 
Conscience clung to cross and banner 

In the hand of Christ unfurled. 
Something said, " Go preach the gospel; " 

Science said, " First go to school ; " 
Avarice said, " First make the riches; " 

Miser said, " Don't play the fool." 

Science comprised with learning. 

Learned I well to work a trade; 
Conscience smothered down her burning, 

And I at last a living made. 
Then there came a cry of war ; 

Then 1 'listed in the army; 
Fields of earth were soaked with gore ; 

Sea of life to mind was stormy. 

Sickness warned that man was frail ; 

Strength of mortals all must fail ; 
Then I buried Frank and Willie ; 

See the weeping, hear the wail ! 
Then I asked of Christ in prayer : 

" At Thy coming join us there." 
Earth is plucked of fairest flowers. 

Wife and children's beauty rare. 

Hard the burden to be borne; 

Crushed in spirit, heart strings torn ; 
No child alive but the first-born ; 

Wife a dying; friendless, shorn. 



Sad and lonely, dog the only 
Companion 'round the flre-side; 

Wept away is human pride ; 
Need I feelings try to hide? 

Seasons bring to heart no pleasure 

From toiling on — no hour's leisure ; 
Mind betakes to write a book 

To tell myself just how I look. 
Began it I — life's cold and drear ; 

What else will never in print appear ; 
Nor mortals know of human heart, 

The pains that make the feelings start. 

Possessed 1 was to angel wed, 

To break my sorrow for the dead ] 
God appeared and feelings cheered , 

I him obeyed, for God I feared ; 
And unto me was born a son 

To take my place in life to run ; 
And joy I in the little boy. 

Gave I him a pretty toy. 

Yet I wonder still the more 

What have I done when lite is o'er? 
Think I often what is said. 

Or thought of me when I am dead. 
Surrendered I my heart to heaven, 

All my sins have felt forgiven , 
Find I life is worth the living , 

God has blessed me in the giving. 



A TALK WITB GKANDMA. 



I often think of grandma, 

Who always proved my friend ; 

Who gave me cakes and candies 
And coppers for to spend. 

And sjrandma often told me 
How many long years ago, 

She wore a little hood and mits 
And loved to play in snow. 

And how teachers in those days 
Were not like teachers now ; 

The children that conformed to rule 
To teacher made a bow. 

And girls looked not so graceful 

In tow or linen dresses. 
Nov took the pains to fix their hair 

In wavey curls or tresses. 

Parents always taught the child 
To obey the teacher's rules. 

And those who could not learn at school 
Were counted simple fools. 

The teacher kept a long, slim stick 
Carefully smoked to make it tough ; 

A whipping then to make one mind 
Was not considered rough. 







Few painted houses were in sight ; 

The country all was new ; 
And silks were scarce and hard to get, 

And calico dresses few. 

From hackled flax, well scutched and bruised, 
We always spun the thread we used, 
And then we spun our carded wool, 
And wove and sent our cloth to full. 

With those who felt too short of means 
The process stopped with woolen jeans, 
And those who seldom dare be mincy 
Contented were with only linsey. 

We did not have the cook stove then ; 
Our fireplace was a great log pen. 
With sticks across from square of jam. 
Well daubed with clay to top of stem. 

And then we used an oven with lid. 
The things a cooking within were hid 
From hickory wood fire coals aglow. 
Applied and renewed above and below. 

And then we used a reflector of tin 
That baked the bread from shine within ; 
And learned it took a close inspector 
To govern the heat of a tin reflector. 

Sometimes we used a board alone 
To bake of meal a flapjack pone ; 
We hung the boiling pots on a crane. 
And covered them up to keep out the rain. 

With ox teams most of the ground was plowed ; 
From sleds the most of the hay was mowed ; 



10 



Honest toil for self and others 

Made neighbors seem the more like brothers. 

We all had something then to do ; 
Things of art were very few ; 
Stores were few and far between ; 
Yarn sold by reel and not by skein. 

Papers contained few novel tales ; 

The world was heard from through the mail ; 

Wages came at toil's command ; 

Money was saved to purchase land. 

We look through darksome future 

For what has come to pass ; 
I count those years upon my face 

While looking through the glass. 



THE MULLEN PLACE, 

Near Felicity, Clermont County, O. 



Through years I go back to glean, 

Fond memory contains the scene; 

My first home west of the mountains 1 scan, 

To bring up the pastas best I can. 

First comes the house, time-marked and old. 
And clay-chinked cracks to keep out the cold, 
And porch on the side, first left hj the sun, 
And facing its front the highway run. 

A plain batten door to the entrance I see, 
And string to raise the latch appears; 
The squeak of the hinge resounds to me, 
I step beyond the choke of years; 



n 



And spread to view is the poplar floor, 
And just to the left within the door, 
My mother rocks in the old brown chair; 
She then was young, her cheeks looked fair. 

To the right in a corner never lost to mind. 
Is the step where the stairs began their wind, 
Each morning would find me sitting there, 
With feet more brown than oaken stair: 

And Sis would come and sit beside me, 
Her clean check apron plain I see; 
Our thoughts were at play with pretty toy, 
Sweet sleep and a rest had increased our joy. 

We had come from estate to humbler abode; 
Our mother in grief was wearing the load, 
But little then felt by sister and me, 
As in after years we plainly see. 

Sweet morning of life, how tender the soul ! 
Through j^ears we go back in the evening stroll; 
Our fondness for pleasure still brightens the lea 
Upon which we again our infancy see. 

The house we had come to was worn and old, 
In which families of children had sheltered from 

cold. 
The last having left it before summer was gone; 
Some of their playthings lay on the lawn. 

How I see that sweet lawn that reached to the 

brook. 
And curve in the bank and spring-house nook; 
Eefreshed is my memory, enraptured my soul, 
I drink milk and cream from the deep earthen 

bowl, 



12 



The springs gushing water so crystal like bright 
To thirst giving cooling 1 see with delight. 

On the bank of the brook, in my vision I see, 
At the end ofthe lawn, the tall walnut tree, 
Whose height bent us backward its top to see, 
From where stood watching my sister and me. 

The fruit of the tree, with smooth brown hull, 
Would settle to rest when the wind would lull; 
Our pulse would increase with each gentle swell 
How glad were our hearts when a walnut fell ! 

Near by this tree were the white oak bars, 
Kemoved were most of the axmark scars, 
And care had been taken to get them out strong ; 
Their strength gave protection to the pretty 
green lawn. 

This way Sis and 1 often went to the field, 
For the purple red blossom the ironwoeds yield, 
In crossing the brook the soft willows fanned 
The shore and the drift of pebble and sand. 

For the pearly white stones we stopped on the 

way. 
And flowers forgot till late in the day; 
And later returned with the ironweed yield, 
Perfumed with the flowers we found in the field. 



INSPECTION. 

Two score and six are the years that have fled. 
The tree and the bars are taken away ; 
Is gone the old chair, my mother is dead; 
There's a hair on my head that is gray. 



13 



Stands the house asit stood, impression is plain 

Where id farmed around there about; 

Where went we to milk-house, went we to 

spring, 
Can eye yet follow the route. 

The highwaj^'s no more, yet wears the indent 

That the wheel and the load once made: 

Yet come they back there as sweet once they 

were, 
For to memory never they fade. 

Where was smoke-house and garden the weeds 

grow rank; 
The hollyhock too disappears. 
Hannah who grew them was glad once lo view 

them; 
'Side the green that borders a bank. 

The marigold and pink and poppy, I think, 
Together with the chamomile bed, 
Stood near to the rose, 'side which a path goes 
That straight to a garden gate led. 

Have they gone? Yes, they have ; and the eye 

grows dim, 
Yet to memory they never can fade, 
'Till verged to the brink where mind fails to 

think, 
And there is the sexton and spade. 

The orchard and apples all crimsoned like gold. 
Some bit by the pigs how again I behold ; 
And amber sweet that ran from the press, 
And the quaff with a grunt of dear brother Wess. 

Ah! sweeter, the gush that comes from the hill, 
Neath the broad shelving rock near the spark- 
ling rill; 



1-:^ 



I ^ive up the cider, with its changes from sweet, 
For the spring and its shadows that rose at ray 

feet; 
For the faces I've seen in the water's pure deep, 
While I think do their memory now over me 

creep. 

For one bended o'er with sweet eyes of blue, 
Another caressed me for what I would do ; 
Heard'st gentle voices, "Don't play in the water;" 
'Twas my angel mother and Hannah, her daugh- 
ter. 

And loved thej^ the child, as shying the heed. 
Pulled back for the springs as onward they lead, 
And my pulses are quickening, ascending the 

hill, 
While to memory is sparkling the spring and 

the rill. 

And never's the vanish that takes from the mind 
The path where the hillside sweeter declined; 
And though I may die from the scene far apart, 
Yet the lingerings of spring's brook strengthens 

my heart, 
That ever must feel its passion of love 
For the sister yet here and mother above. 

For Hannah still greets me as ever she done, 
As in days of my childhood, when she too was 

young ; 
And oft we recall the words ol our mother, 
In the name of her Christ, to love one another. 

July 8th, 1887. 



15 
A CHEISTMAS STOEY. 



Nell was happy as a girl could be ^ 

With the things in the world to see : 

She had heard of a city where boys were pretty, 
And there she longed to be. 

She looked in the glass as soon as she came 

Home from a rambling bee, 
And said with a whirl, as she tossed a curl, 

" There's none so pretty as me." 

"I've seen no girl with a tossing curl — 

Most curls hang down alike, 
But mine is fine and dressed to shine ; 

In town I'd make a strike." 

While thus soliloquized the maid, 

Her cheeks aglow with glee, 
Tom came in and said with a grin, 

" Here's a letter for you to see." 

Nell took the letter and ran to her mother, 
Wondering from whom it could be. 

She opened and read from a hand well bred : 
"Please come to a Christmas spree." 

" Eead it again ; " said Mrs. Frj?-, 

" It means a Christmas tree ! " 
But Nell, as she tried and often shied, 

Still read it a " Christmas spree." 

Nell , striving at a cipher, could not for the life of her, 
Make out who the writer could be ; 

She said, " If he's there and I find him to spare 
I'll hang him on the CbiMstmas tree." 



16 



Said Nell, " I can go and see for myself, 

1 am just from a lively bee ; 
It matters not from whom I've got 
• A letter to come to a spree." 

iS'ellie's mother said, "I'd rather be dead 

Than have you go to a spree ; 
Still I think it's a tree you are going to see, 

And will end in a Christmas glee." 

Tom was crowned to enquire around 
Where the tree or the spree was to be ; 

He said, on return, " The letter now burn ; 
The tree's at the Bonny Bee." 

Nell's- mother, Mrs. Fry, had been to a tree, 
Told Nell of the things she would see. 
And said, " I believe it is mostly for me 
The people have thought of a tree." 

" I know I helped Mary and Sarah to search 
To find pretty things for one at the church, 
And old William Hyan was very well pleased, 
And turned off a laugh by trying to sneeze." 

" And I was standing where I stood before, 
And old Bishop Eyan back of me on the floor ; 
And I heard Bishop Eyan say to a man : 
' Fll marry Mrs. Fry some day, it I can.' " 

" I did'nt run away ; I was'nt such a fool ; 
The Bishop talked on, I stuck to the stool; 
The stool and my height made me look tall. 
And if I'd a mind, could look over them all." 

"And the Bishop's no older (never was a scolder) 
Than me, so you see, will agree, and I'm his to be ; 



17 

So, of course, he'd wiint to know 'twas me; 
So I hung my bonnet on the Christmas tree." 

" And after I'd done it one said to me : 
' Just look at the Bishop a hugging the tree ; ' 
Sallie did'nt know it; the Bishop was sly^- 
To slip it and hide it was in his eye." 

"And some day I'll hear what he has to say, 
For the Bishop's not fooling his time away; 
For the Bishop's my choice and I am his ; 
His word is the gospel and of course he means 'biz' 

Just then was heard the hackman's horn — 
Yes, " she's coming," was the tidings borne ; 
]S'ell fairly danced when she said ''good-bye; " 
The fun of a frolic was in her eye. 

Soon reached was town with stores all lit, 
And pretty things to fancy fit — 
I'll try to make the story hit, 
With all my powers of ready wit. 

Great brown houses and steeples high, 
And twinkling clusters in the sk}^. 
Made Christmas night a grander scene 
Than could description ever mean. 

And Nell beheld the pretty girls. 
With hanging bangs and flowing curls; 
Ge»ulemen, with canes tipped off with gold, 
All wearing furs to keep out cold. 

Soon the wondrous towers of the grand old hall 
Make other structures all Look small ; 
Nell, looking out, could plainly see 
They were driving up to the Bonny Bee. 



18 



Soon she entered glad the throng, 
Nor had a thought of doing wrong; 
The scene within, to please the mind, 
Was such as poets rarely find. 

Old Bonny Bee was in array, 
All lighted up for Christmas day ; 
And in the center, first to see, 
To suit all hearts, a Christmas tree. 

And lit within was chandelier. 
So well arranged the tree appears, 
A thing of beauty to the taste, 
On every side the richness faced. 

On either side for length of hall 
Were cushioned seats along the wall ; 
The width of floor from side to side 
Serves as veil to features hide. 

At base of tree there sat two bards, 
And Bishop Ryan, receiving cards. 
And Nell sent hers inscribed thereon, 
"Aunt Pollie Frj^ has stayed t'home." 

When that card reached the clerical man 
He gave it a moment's careful scan ; 
Then turning it over he wrote on the back, 
" With Polly Sly, pray don't be slack," 

The recording bard soon copied its face, 
Then turned it over in search of place. 
Which soon he found as plain as print, 
In delicate hand — he took the hint. 

He asked his partner what to enter. 
And wrote the widow to strip the center; 



19 



As soon as cards had taken been, 
Then the tree was canvassed in, 

And left in charq;e of a wise committee 
To hang the presents, sorted fitty; 
Save injunction, go ye by 
The record, to widow, add fish to fry. 

Soon hung was store on limbs of tree; 
With card attached, "Who's this to be?" 
Then rose up Ryan from his chair 
And ran his fingers through his hair. 

And said, " My friends, your Lord is dead ; 

He, who for love my spirii wed. 

On Calvary was crucified. 

For ruined world, Christ Jesus died." 

" Must this grand tree be telt a rod 
Directly from the hand of God? 
Be careful that you thankful be — 
With these remarks, acquit is me." 

Then the Bishop read the names, 

And the poets ^-ead the drawing; 
All had to stand it, hit or miss. 

Without any hemming or hawing. 

( The Drawing.) 

Some drew what brought contentment; 

Some drew what brought despair; 
Some drew a charming ringlet 

To help their tress of hair. 

Another drew a cj^clone, all pictured out in storm ; 
Another drew a corset to help her body's form ; 



One drew a cup and saacer and aloes mixed with tea; 
The same drew maids a quarreling, never to agree. 

One drew a jack o' lantern deceiving in the night, 
•And drew a ghost belie.ver about to take affright, 
Another drew a landscape, without a dot in view; 
Others drew a carriage, looking splinter new. 

Another drew a drummer, beaten on the head. 
And drew the one who beat him lying in a bed • 
Another drew a carpet made of cloth of cheese, 
And drew a man with snuff-box trying hard to 
sneeze. 

One drew a goose and gander, fastened in the fence, 
And a woman waiting to feed them, dying with 
suspense. 

One drew a keg of oysters, along with roasted pig, 
With eater, after blessing, around a looking big. 

Another drew a whip-lash with cracker on the end, 
Together with an liostler, waiting on a friend; 
Together with a plug hat, trimmed like a bonnet ; 
Together with a song verse, sweeter than a sonnet ; 
Togetner with a placard, '-mackerer' written on it; 



Then rose up Bishop Kj-an and said, •' Right her 
my friends, 

Just pay for the mackerel, or here the drawino- 
ends.'' ^ 

A widow has drawn the Jack of hearts 

With " mackerel " written on it ; 
No order in to purchase fish — 

The poets couldn't rhyme it. 

This announcement roared the hall ; 
Charity grappled with them all, 



21 



Till every one cast in their lot, 
With nothing left to be forgot. 

The scribes and Bishop commission framed, 
The power as wrought commiHsioners named 
To deliver the goods to the one intended, 
With this arranged, the drawing ended. 

Nell laughed to think a Christmas spree 
Had all turned out a Christmas tree, 
And joined the throng in promenade, 
Which ended in a masquerade. 

Soon round the grand old Christmas tree 
A bar and counter came to be ; 
With other things so present nigh 
In glittering shine to please the eye. 

Then cheering music summoned all 
Who wore a mask to join the ball ; 
And Nellie's heart grew glad as well, 
As quickened step the feelings tell. 

And how the feet of dancer 

Grrew nimble in the drill ; 
While pretty shying gestures 

Cause the heart to thrill. 

They danced a song to mermaids 

To raise them out of sea ; 
If they could see the masquerade 

How happy they would be. 

The players played the frost king, 

Touched by lovely spring, 
And played the joy to feelings 

That all the seasons bring. 



•>'? 



They played a song of training 

Pretty birds to fly ; 
Only seen their glances 
• From their pretty eye. 

Then they sang a wine song, 

Eound a Christmas tree ; 
With chorus seemed the time long, 

Keeping company. 

They sang, "Oh, aint the wine sweet. 

In pretty towns we see ; 
No difference what the pastime. 

So the church agree." 

Then they turned to dancing, 

Hugging one another ; 
Scarcely knowing partner 

From Johnny Bunyan's mother. 

Then came a time for speeches. 

All a feeling glad ; 
Did not see the use of churches 

Ever getting mad. 

Did not see the Bishop's trowsers 

Holding more than man. 
Of festivals in churches — 

Rather liked the plan. 

Did not favor half the crying 
Of Christians when in class, 

Nor stint the wine in sacrament 
When churches meet in mass. 

Kather thought the missions 
Paid the heathen well ; 



Had plenty of books to read, 
And plenty of books to sell. 

Then winding up on speeches 

They took each others' hand, 
And seemed to feel the greeting 

About the vital stand. 
• 
Turned they to the tables, 

Laden down with cake, 
Beside, to moisten pallet, 

A little wine they take. 

Then the music shrilled a strain 
Called '- Jubilator's Trotter, " 

The jumping up for dancing 
Made the tables totter. 

Slipped from Nellie's mask 

A very handsome curl ; 
Tom, the hostler, clipped it 

Unnoticed in the whirl. 

Now come in the candies, 

Countless in the size ; 
Some wrought in " Handy Andy's, 

With sweet and cunning eyes. 

Last of all the tea party, 

And selling marriage ring- 
Sure to be an April fool, 
Or wedding in the spring. 

One hundred pretty forms 

Standing on the floor, 
Are being sold to chance 

Supplied by fifty more. 



24 



As many tickets as were heads 

Bear in full a lady's name, 
And sold to any gentleman 
• Until the hundredth came. 

And then the hundred put in box 

And drawn out by name 
To see if any gentleman 

Would get again the same. 

And then for the hundred drawn, 
One hundred blanks, save one. 

Were drawn out by ladies 
Entitled to the fun. 

When each would draw a blank 
The rest her name would sing, 

Until the lucky lady 
Drew the wedding ring. 

The list of drawing then was read ; 

Some gentleman read the name 
Of her ^ho drew the wedding ring. 

To him belonged the same. 

The ring was then delivered 

To the gent who drew her name, 

And if she did not like him 
He tried his luck again. 

To his choice of one of the fifty 
The ring was offered next ; 

If she, too, refused 

His feelings then were vexed. 

Then the Bishop would take the ring 
And sell it out again. 



25 

Declaring those refusing it 
Had acted to their shame. 

And so explained the drawing ; 

We now proceed to say, 
So far as chance could marry, 

'Twas Nellie's wedding day. 

The twenty score all wearing mask- 
Of course, none knew the man ; 

And he is left to future luck 
To do the best he can. 

All had assumed a name but Nell, 
And she had told the truth. 

The stylish gent who drew her 
Had signed himself, " The Youth. 

While every one was happy 

As can four hundred be. 
One said to Nell, a laughing, 

" How do you like the tree? " 

So mingled were the voices, 

vSo gorgeous the display ; 
Just who had asked the question 

Ventured none to say. 

But the voice had made impression. 

On many ears it fell ; 
Was many ventured guesses 

Who could be the "Nell." 

But hearing no response 
To how was liked the tree, 

The wits gave up the question 
Who the " Nell " could be, 



^6 

She was glad, for the ring she was wearing 

To future hopes it bore 
Some kind of friend's relation 
, Of wedding joys in store. 

The gentlemen had drawn by number; 

The ladies had drawn by name ; 
Whether suited to rights of friendship 

The holding was all the same. 

And Nell resolved to try for 
A feeling to make her content, 

With the man who tried to suit her 
The giving the ring had meant. 

Now strove a pretty question 

Of how it would be at home, 
When mother received the presents 

That from the tree had come. 

For well she knew the donors 

Had meant it most for fun, 
And reckoned on the chances 

Taking silent run. 

Mother's disappointment 

In what the Bishop meant, 
Might easily be discovered 

By the mackerel he had sent. 

Would phe help the solving 

Who had placed the ring; 
Blessing it till April, 

The second month of spring? 

And would there be a wedding, 
And she the one of two, 



To call herself the bride 

Of one she didn't know who? 

All these pretty questions 
Eesolving in her mind, 

Determined her to venture 
The hidden one to find. 

Soon the willing hackmen 
Blew aloud their horns; 

TheQ a mighty shuffling 
And tramping on of corns. 

Sing a song of traveler 

Groing from a spree; 
Sing a song of hostler 

Keeping company. 

Sing a song arrival 

Back to happy mother ; 

Sing a song of skipped-out, 
Hiding went the other. 

Sing a song of blessing 
And hugging with a kiss ; 

Sing a song of crying girl 
Tossing curl to miss. 

Sing a song of mother asking, 

""Who came home with you?' 
Sing a song of answer, 
"Help me, wonder who? " 

Sing a song of enquiry 

What it came to be ; 
Sing a song of answer, 

•'Dancing, tree, and spree." 



28 

Sing a song of swooning mother, 

Slow a coming to; * 

Sing a song of daughter, 

Didn't know what to do. 

Sing a song of camphor 

Poured in mother's eye; 
Sing a song of jumping up 

A scolding Pollife Fry. 

Sing a song of calling Tom 

In from the stable; 
Sing a song his foot slfppcd 

And upset the table. 

Tom says but little. 

But grins a mighty sight; 
Sing a song, devil lo pay, 

Eun or have a fight. 

Sing a song of morning dawning 

And coming of a team; 
Sing a song of backing up 

With almost force ot steam. 

You'd better think unloading 

Astonished the Widow Fry; 
She stood and looked amazed 

With wonder in her eye. 

Near a ton of sundries 

Laid out upon the gi'ound; 
Preparing to skedaddle, 

The team was turning round. 

She caught her broom and out she went 
Raving, — "What's it mean?"' 

And broke the handle over the tongue 
In trying to stop the team. 



29 

The man whipped up his horses 

And vanished like a dream ; 
The woman fell a crying 

Loud as she could scream. 

Long she lay in anguish 

And wonderment of soul; 
"Was all this bought for mo," she tliought, 

Whi^e viewing mighty whole. 

"'Twill take the farm to pay it;" 

The woman began to scold , 
Never the like of this before . 

By tongue was ever told. 

To singleize the items, 

Arrive at amount of cost, 
Was careful to look for damage 

As accidental loss. 

Nell, in the room, from hiding, 

Ventured now to peep, 
And later out came creeping, 

Pretending half asleep. 

"We're ruined, Nell, sure as the world , 
In name of God I fought and cried." 

Nell, waking up on hearing this. 
Her parent's words quite all denied. 

"Why, all these things were sent to you 
B}' the Bishop in charge of a tree ! 

I'll prove it true by one who knew ; 
You wouldn't attend the spree. " 

"That would do if this could be 
Anything else but matching." 

This she said, with eyes both red, 
While at a label scratching. 



30 

Reader, I think I see 3^ou seeing 
From the corner of your eye; 

Lovel_y sonnet, pretty bonnet 
Send tlii.- fish lo PoUie Fry. 

Sing a song of mackerel 

Pickling in the brine. 
Sing a song of Bishop 

Having jolly time. 

Sing a song of whiplash 

Cracker on the end: 
Sing a song of coacliman 

Had no whip to lend. 

Sing a song of giving 
All the things to Nell; 

Sing a song of mother's present 
Pkased her mighty well. 

Sing a song of bell-sheej:). 
Turned clear out of church; 

Sing a song of clergy. 
All left in the lurch. 

Sing a song of bishop 
Feeling mighty queer; 

Sing a song of seer, 
Smiling lager beer. 

Sing a song of fifer, 

Playing for a drum; 
Sing a song of deacon, 

Tune about to hum. 

Sing a song, a little spree, 

To match the church o^ Piome; 

Sing a song of indulger, 
Stayed awake at home. 



31 

Sing a song of Tom gone 
Where no one just knew ; 

Sing a song, a couple 
Sitting in a pew. 

Sing a song a courting, 

Gentlen.an a coming ; 
Sing a song a stranger, 

Set the bees a humming. 

Sing a song of Nellie 

Pleased mighty well ; 
Sing a song with gentlemaii, 

Deep in love she fell. 

Sing a song he told her 
That, once upon a time , 

He signed a note in cypher 
That mothers could'nt rhyme. 

vSing a song a tea party 

Selling out a ring- 
Sing a song of April 

The second month offspring. 

Sing a song I want j'OU 

For to be my wife ; 
Sing a song she answered 

Yes, with all my life. 

Sing a song of handing Nell 

A soft and pretty curl ; 
Tom, the affianced, clipped it 

In cutting of a whirl. 

Sing a song of happy days, 

Them long ma}' we remember , 

Christmas comes but once a .year. 
And always in December. 



32 

(MORAL.) 

Wl.on the soul is sick with nno.ni.sh 
If we feel ourselves to blame ; 

If we feel our acts atoned for, 
Ma^V not others feel the same? 



TO THE MEiMOJ? V OF MA RV WEMMONS. 

How sweet 'tis to think of the dear dead an<l 
gone, 

Of the tide of'life in its sweot movino'on- 
And sweeter the barque fond memory" hath told 
Or the lives compared to more j)nre li.an .roki 

^Sweet to think of the palm that was warm'^to « 
friend ; 

To think it withheld -.vhere it never ahould 
lend, 

Sweet precept chaste white with the love 'hat's 
divine, 

Friendly truth in Us bind making. „|ad with 
assign. " " 

Ptn.e thou was't, Mary, bringing many to think, 
J 1.8 side of the portal, this side of the brink 

Of that river so dark, where the boatman so p^le 
Shrinks all mortal strength (or its shadow of 
vale. 

Has been wept for thee more than clouds ever 
weep; 

Has been wept that thou, Mary, art not 
Has been wept after eyes had waked from their 
•sleep ; 

Has been wept for a friend's sad lot. 



33 

Neve»' did'st thou wed, but always did'st thou 
h:)ve : 
Place heaven on eartli thou wast tlien tlu'one's 
dove, 
For sweet is tlie messan'e that comes to my heart 
Of n (fod and his angel that searches the part; 
That searclies the soul for the first life given, 
That tells of a Mary that knows of a heaven. 

Mary's sweet golden hair and complexion so fair 

Fades not, for her touch and her tear. 
When I think of the feelings her heart for me 
had, 
Her image is sure to appear. 
It seems to me she moves me to search well my 
heart 
For what from her soul did her deep look 
impart ; 
There's something holds sway o'er my life that is 
biding, 
And I feel it is her in her own gentle chiding. 

Since no more I can ])our life's sorrows and grief 
To the heart whose pulse moved heaven to bier^ 

My quick pulses beat at the woe of defeat, 
And I moisten her dust with a tear. 

My heart searches sad for the friend once I had? 

No more for the blest reason given ; 
Her soul's entered vault of the world of no fault, 

Her purity prepares me for heaven. 

I look through the veil : she appears as in years 
That are gone, with the things that have fled, 

And I bless back the thought of the pleasure 
fraught 
That comes of the joys of her tears. 



34 

Pov Mary would weep that her heart was obeyed, 
And I learned to love her sweet chide ; 

From her loving reproof never stood me aloof, — 
Never thought me my face to hide. 

J look through the grave sod deep into eartii, 

And I toucli the senseless clay : 
I join with the host, immortal of ghost, 

On the plains that are farthest away. 



Pia, POLK AND POP. 

I knew a neighbor who always grieved 

At another poor neighbor's success, 
Although the little could be put in a kettle, 

Of all this neighbor's distress. 

Huffy old Ben, like a pig in a pen, 
With mud in and husks in to wallow, 

Begrudged his neighbor the least of a favor; 
Their joy he never could swallow. 

But day by day kept up his squealing, 

Not like his pig in the pen, 
But kept up a clack beiiind peoples back 

To the detriment of all of his ken. 

And often a neighbor was heard to sa}', 

"1 wish that squealing old fool 
Would swallow a frog the size of a dog, 

For the sake of the golden rule." 

Like sons of a god, his sons grew up, 

And his daughter like daughters of men ; 

The god they worshipped was worldly fame 
So liked by their father Ben. 

'With all ot their wealth, the}- borrowed of others. 
But none of them ever would lend ; 



35 

If their cow made a gap in the fence, 
Tne gap they never would mend. 

The cost to a neighbor to serve such neighbors, 

The expense to keep them in tools, 
Was I'ccompensed by father and child 

In calling their neighbors fools. 

And selfish old Hen, like James K. Polk, 

Was fair to the face of a friend ; 
His ever excuse, things suffer abuse, 

Therefore he never could lend. 

Yet old Ben's ways were not like Polks, 

In this that they planned no end, 
Where Polk's succeed to ways that kad 

To the finding a friend in the end. 

His daughtei's were fair as the fair ol the land, 

But that wouldn't satisfy aim ; 
And ail admonition of a mother tailed ; 

The^' sought for, they gloried in name. 

Ben hated a soldier, to him he was grum ; 

If the man got a pension old Ben wanted some: 
For the savino- of self, the M-ivini'- of wealth. 

Was what Ben argued but saved the pelt. 

Jie nrgued a substitute went to war 

To fight lor wages till the strife was o'er; 

And his taking care of the soldier's wife, 
Was loss to him for a deadly strife. 

He })romised as juuch but didn't to that; 

All hegave soldier's wives could be]>ut in his hat; 
The rights of a country, a ])oor man's grave, 

The glut of a ])ocket and stomach his crave. 



36 

Old Ben liad religion, his love for the church 
Left deacons and members all in the lurch ; 

He would'nt <^\ve a cent, he would'nt pay for pew, 
To cheat them out of comfort was all he could do. 

He preferred to play games and spit on the floor; 

If it cost for scrubbing he'd go no more ; 
And thus changed around to spend winter nights, 

Half sleepiuLS half playing, kept up his delights. 

Old Ben had a dog he starved down lean ; 

Assigned for a cause the dog was mean ; 
Was given to the dog an unknown law, 

That a dog to his master must hold up a paw. 

But never remorsed by the look of the dog. 

Old Ben continued in sin, 
And denied the poor dog what he fed to a hog, 

And filled his cup to the brim. 

Of old Ben's sons, the way reason runs, 

They grew up proud, stiff men ; 
Will the}' ever )-eform, we mean no harm, 

But ask of our conscience, when? 

Deceitful, mean, selfish and cunning. 

Void of desire the better to do. 
Avaricious, unscrupulous in dealing. 

The most relentless I ever knew. 

But of will to do, and forever true, 

Aunt Poj> fills the reckoning to find one; 

The mother of four, Ben's children no more, 
And lKi})py to say no grandson. 

In a thousand lines 1 could say no more; 

In all things good, Aunt Pop made her score 
Constant in care, devotion and prayer. 

Of sweetness of temper the world over fair. 



37 

One evening old Ben came in from tlie field. 

And brought in his arms the popcorn yield. 
While lajing down the close grained ears, 

The best of a woman his wife appears. 

And smiling, said, "Suppose we pop 
The grains of an ear to see them hop;" 

"Agreed," said Ben ''and name the corn 
As the spirit did the gladness horn." 

Ben shelled the corn, blew out the chatf. 

And iound a grain that made him laugh; 
Its form's so large and yet the same 

Inspired thought to add a name. 

Aunt Pop picked out a grain of blue 
And wished a wish for whom it grew; 

Old Ben the same had sooner done, 
And then the popping corn begun. 

Old Ben went turning round and round; 

Aunt'Pop late acquaintance found; 
Old Ben jumped and turned clear over, 

Aunt Pop blushed like leaf of clover. 

Then Aunt Pop came out in white; 

Old Ben scorched, looked like a fright; 
Then all the rest Lurned inside out; 

Old Ben still is left in doubt. 

Strange to tell, it now was learned. 
None but Ben of the corn had burned. 

Which filled his mind with great concern, 
The cause of the burning yet to learn.' 

He ran his fingers through his hair ; 

His look was one of deep despair; 
For one all lost, he answered well; 

Hope was gone, hie «;ountenance fell. 



38 
The grain was now burn' to the shell. 

Then 8])oke the man froin out of .sjroans, 
And low liis voice in whisper moans, 

Anathema inaratiatha from his blue lips fell. 
Antl reason left but j^et to tell. 

Appearance is there, the size is there, 
But the ii;rain, alas, is gone to liell. 

Old Ben went crazy; some said he was lazy, 
When to nothing beseemed inclined; 

Not like a man of absent mind, 
But like a man lost mind to find. 

The hand of God was on the man, 
Say what you will of his ways; 

He remained insane, with none to blame, 
To the end of the rest of his days. 



GOVEENMENT SHOT IN THE EAR. 

1861. 

Prom liberty's beautiful center summit, 
I cast a pen-point's leaden plummet; 

Reviewing some of my past life, 

When sun shone sweet on man and wife. 

Then 1, myself, was twenty-four; 
Then 1 marked all cares a score; 
Theu I rose at day's sweet dawn, 
Then my days went pleasant on. 

Not a thought of youth look shorn, 
Not a thought that man could mourn; 

Not a thought would set life's sun, 
For joys of life so sweetly run. 

Barque went or) life's river gliding, 
Tender hopes yet knew no chiding, 



39 

Spirt loved recess of hiding. 

Love in love went on confiding. 

Hark, I iiear some thunder echo; 

God, I wonder if 'tis woe ! 
Wonder can it be my conntr}-. 

Stakes its life on overthrow? 

What's this eye beholds in manner? 

What is this so wrote in banner? 
What is this, mv country's call, 

Exposing heart to cannon-ball? 

What's array? seven hundred hundred. 

Looked T again, and then 1 wondered; 
AVhat's the sequel, deep I pondered: 

War again fi-om cannon thundered. 

Then I enrolled at Cincinnati; 

Fift}^ dollars bounty got T; 
Then in saddle on charger sat L, 

And went to war, to live or die. 

Fields of strife were fields of earth; 

Purchased had they been for worth; 
Purchased again at cost of pain, 

Was what I heard among the slain. 

Incurred I stroke in joint and brain. 
Laid I out in storms of rain; 

Exposure had my eyes most blinded, 
Still my country's call I minded. 

When the cannon ceased to roar, 
Then I repaired to eastern shore; 

Thence to Cincinnati, lame. 
Cars I took, and home I came. 



40 
NUNNEMAKEK. 

The in and out of bank and stream, 

Is what I 8a\v of late in dream; 
Where lovers sat, and talked in the shade, 

The sun goinii^ 'round the tree-trunk made; 
On side of hill, in shad}' grovo 

Ot sugar trees that heai't could love. 
Sun's (/olden arrow, mild of beam, 

As fled the stars, fell on the stream , 
Cheerful nature waked from sleep. 

Did ou'; from tiny eyelids peep, 
And sang the bird to bright of day, 

Where sunlight kissed the night away. 
The flowers growing round about. 

Hugged with green to water's rout; 
Warbler's catching song's first note, 

Eechatted back with swell of throat. 
Harmon}' was 'till fell discord 

Amid the scene of loves afl^ord, . 
As felt of God to lover and friend, 

Tn sweetest tones to feelings blend. 
'J'hen changed, and the brook sighed; 

Then darkened, and the birds shied; 
Then thundered, and storm arose, 

And nature feigned to find repose. 

To prove the mock of nature's feign, 
Held out the honeycup for rain, 

Then flashes came, revealing tears 

Like clouds have wept for countless years. 

And brook arose as if in dream, 

Wearing water-gates from up the stream; 
Then widening into torrent swept, 

Beyond where thunderclouds had wept. 



41 

Till ocean appeared in billow^' waves, 
Bethinkin*!; mind of monstei\i!^raves; 

Then siu'i^'ing tln'oiigli the farrowed dee]) 

The ship, Glad heart, smoothed waves to sleep 

But who were the lovers that sat in the shade? 

That vowed he'd never forsake her, 
Was vowed in return, his name she would learn 

To S])ell with her own - Nunnemaker. 

Never she said of the scene, ''There's a sweet." 
For her modesty talked no charms ; 

But left his heart free, herself to see, 
A beinii; born for his arms. 

He further did vow, though the billowy waves 
Smoothed not, yet never he'd once forsake hei*; 

But take her in arms and speak of her charms, 
And call her his sweet Nunnemaker. 

Were they married? No, not by the laws that find 
It better to speak of the ties that bind ; 

But the stronger of cord, to break if 3'ou try, 
Stood mutual of vow, till either should die. 

Was it Mary that smiled when the pattering rain 
Mingled plash with the tear in her eye? 

Was her ocean of soul a story untold, 
Compared to the ocean nigh? 

Yes, and the wept arose out of dream 

Of joys yet forever to be. 
Floodgates of dream were e^'elids of stream 

Of teai's, peaceful river to see. 

Yes, and she found she could not hide 

From the rain that soon overtakes her; 
From the eye if she try, the tears rain and cry 



42 
From the lover, the ^'oiith — Xunncmaker. 

She way w<^,pt tor, as well as she wept for anothor; 

And she married the never forsake.her; 
She ])arted with mother, with father and brother; 

And was added to Mary — Nuniiemaker. 

Had the ship s moot lied the wave, where was 
monster grave? 

It had, and beheld she a sweet ])lain ol life, 
And what had the ship become bnl a house, 

And she had become but a wiie. 

Again they assayed to sit in the shade 

The sun going round the tree-trunk made; 

For the sigh of the brook, there came Hshing hook. 
And they angled together by nook. 

Their love prgved an ocean, the sailing was sweet. 
For the twain that was one, who tished that 
day. 
Eternal would abide ihejr baroue's irentle irlide. 

-1- O O / 

Were the grave to mortals away 

But the wept human eye can't p;.ss the grave by, 

For it's given all mortals to die; 
We meet the waves monster, the ship and who 
launched her, 

Again, we hear the brook sigh. 

We weep, we think of the cold earthy inn; 

Or cavern of hill, or rocky bin; 
We liear tolling bell, we meet undeilaker, 

Here's gone U) their grave, sweelhearts, 
Nunnemaker, 



48 

ATKIBUTE TO LIGHTFOOT. 

Little Liii;litfoot in the morning 

When I bouglit him ran to me; 
lie was tlien a little p»l)p.y, 

Shortl)' after he could see. 
Lightfoot's mother, timid Jessie. 

^-'at and looked so very meek, 
And when I took her child a walking, 

A tear ran down her little cheek. 
Several times 1 had returned him 

To his home in a bunch of hay; 
As often, Lightfoot's mother watched me, 

Till my footsteps led away. 
Lightloot had a little brother, 

Though not so pretty quite as he; 
So when I found I'd grieved the mother, 

Took the darker pup with me. 
And made for him a little bed 

In a crib that stood close by. 
Where he lay and seemed contei ted, 

Until he heard his mother cry. 
Soon his mother came and took him 

Back to Lightfoot in the hay ; 
Then she sat and looked triumphant, 

Watching me across tho way. 

Sad and lone I leigned to be, 

Nor looked at her so she could see; 

Every day was very caretui 

To never turn my steps that way. 

Bays went h\ till Jessie came 
Tlie little bed 'm the crib to see; 

Then brought the pup with three white teet. 
And gave her pretty child to me, 



44 

Then L went and brought the other 
That the two might be content; 

Strange to tell, soon came the mother 
And with the black one home she went. 

And every day for quite a while 

She came to see her Lightfoot child, 

But quit when the pup could run and plaj' 
And bark at her across the way. 



1)EM0CEA(^Y. 

iSiothing so sweet as Democracy 
To man ever entered the mind ; 
'Tis God and his truth inspiring youtl 
To strengthen the ties of its bind. 



Near's Deitj- and man in the ])ass, 
And life-giving jK)wer becomes 
The direction of chosen of state, 
While he to the congress runs. 

There met are all questions of state, 
As though they were blest to each man ; 
Seen is the beauty of this 
By the eye of executive scan. 

Grreat banner tree of our liberty, 
That hovers her chickens of sod ; 
Sweet congresa of loved America, 
Wearing smile like son of God. 

Is there a link less bright than sees it? 
Dare a shadow exist under sun, 



45 

Save the one of the vine and fig tree, 
Where the rivers of peace now run? 

God, we forget not to bless thee ; 
Christ of the bible be one 
That captions the song of our libert}', 
To the blossoming fields under sun. 

And as come they into relation ot state, 
May their circle of senate of states 
Ecmain to the Lord what our conscience afford, 
The checks and the balance of weights. 

And God cease not to the poets, 

To ever be found their life battle, 

That takes in the cradle, the spoon and the ladle, 

From the lipp to pronounce above prattle. 

AuiTUst, 1888. 



THE WHIP-POOR-WILL SHOE. 

In the land of sand, and shell, and flower, 
The green moss hung from wild-wood bower, 
Deep in its darkened shades I clung 
To solitude, when I was young. 

Alone with God, the nature sweet 
Grew up in cluster at my feet; 
And none was there to fancy fret, 
And felt the soul to God in debt. 

Near a babbling brook in the forest grew 

A charming flower called Whip-poor-will shoe ; 



46 

To me a child, the flower rare, 
Withdrew m}^ sight from others fair. 

Its form was like some wild bird's breast, 

With modest}' to give it zest; 

And j^ist within its tender fold 

Were hues and shades no tongue hath told. 

Embracing bosom formed the shoe, 
As if to hide itself from view; 
Described its nectarous curving bowl. 
The inner inness of the soul. 

Eyes have long with ardent fires. 
Looked and gazed to quench desires; 
And 3'et. remains, this shoe so huiug 
The human soul still seeks its wooing. 

The flower bore upon my mind, 
And taught my heart to seek to find, 
A mind that loved the shade and nook 
Where grew the flower, near the brook. 

Alone with Clod, in humble prayer, 
1 asked him who the shoe could wear? 
The answer came, for whom it grew 
Was one who loved the sky in blue, 

Whose nature knew no Clod's defeat, 
When Whip-poor-will shoe, the gazes meet, 
Is seen in flower, the destiny 
That guided one, my wife to be. 



WHERE THEY PLAYED WHEN BOYS 
NEAE FELICITY^ CLERMOIS^T CO., OHIO. 

Coming down through a valley, old Indian creek 

Eipples b}^ the farms on either side; 
And passes the home of Becca and Russel, 



47 

To the joy of memories orlide. 

And just Where's a turn to follow the creek. 
Is a milk-house andsprino-, and the wall is thick; 
Is a shelving rock jutting out overhead, 
Immerged from its shadow, a foot-path led, 

And passed through an orchard and clump of 

briers. 
Where rabbits burrowed and bred in their lairs; 
Then changing to winde, bearing north from a 

gate, 
Past lilac in front, to pleasant rebate. 

"Where still stands the house, coved in by the hill; 
Where memory to fancy can lavish her fill; 
Where dwelt the two mentioned, a sister and 

brother. 
And guarding their years, a father and mother. 

I see young Russ waiting to welcome a friend, 
Who has come now, as then, a passtime to spend; 
And Becca, his sister, in spite of sweet shy. 
Moves sly to the cupboard, to bring a mince pie, 
For she well knew the boys would be off on a run; 
And would if she could have joined in the fun. 

As often as plate came round to a boy. 
He took some with smile that told of his joy ; 
Then stealing a glance at the dark cut of brows. 
Stole away with her brother to play m the mows. 

For the old barn near by, on a raise to the east, • 
Was stored with the products loved by the beast 
That stood in the stall and ate of the hay 
Fed from the mows where the boys went to play. 

Thus hid in a valle}^ environed by hill. 

Was the old house and barn, on road to the mill, 



48 

That Armacost kept, on the creek further down, 
And the only road used that led to the town. 

Southeast, past the barn, the creek makes a bend, 
There the waters of Indian creek and (Goodwin's 

creek blend ; 
To tho right of the bend, on the brow of a hill. 
Is an old burial place, off the road to the mill. 

And near it's a house constructed of logs. 
That fronts a lowland sunken with bogs ; 
Falls away to the westward dense forest and thin, 
And then Eeuben Wiley's and Kinney's come in. 

Which latter's a frame, and, shorn of trees. 
Stands out to the I'egion, exposed to the breeze; 
The former's a brick, of earlier day. 
Standing back to the north from main higliway. 

To see of, and talk of, folks of their day, 

Did the boys often ramble irom eastward away; 

But mealtime or shadow would find their brown 

feet 
In the cottage or cabin, boys ready to eat. 

Will those days be forgotten ? O answer me, pray i 
For the cares that ma}^ come to drive them away, 
For the boatman and barque, for the check-lines 

at play , 
For the hope that w^e have of a fjir better day. 

"Come back to us, boys," seem's coming from hill. 
From ripple of stream and whisper of rill ; 
"Come back to the fancies of childhood again, 
With the rapid decline of old Wiley's lane." 



49 

WKITTEK ON THE KINGDOMS— ANIMAL 
AND VEGETABLE. 

Where is dense to near the brink, 
Where is mind's commune to think, 

Is where 1 sit, amid the ^^reen. 

And try with pen to speak the scene. 

Looks nature ^-oung, "tis montii of June, 
And all is grand within the view ; 

A warbler sits on pinnacle, 

To echo catch from sky in blue. 

The twine of vine to where assigned. 
Relieved of winter, pleases mind. 

With fancies run, tlie feelings glide 
To silver tree, by cedar's side. 

Whispers fir — beyond we think — 
"Be careful vines, so near the brink, 

Where worms do fall to fish in school, 

Where steep is bank, where deep is pool." 

"Where are you ? " comes from grim and dark, 
Where ceaseless time has laid it-; mark. 

•'Clematis, thou hast left my face. 
To run with grape a rambling race. 

"Left all exposed to tempest squall, 
Insures the soon that I must fall. 

Higher than I, the trees to climb. 

Wilt thou not change and yet be mine ? " 

"Thou wall, ago by mortals sought. 

Who framed thy windows, pretty wrought ? 

Who, later left for fear of squalls, 

Admits of thee, thou crumbled walls? " 

"One greater than thou, thee doth pursue, 
Bitter's from o-round where seen is rue." 



50 

''Yes, 'twas nunc," speaks grape in vine, 
"Long before was here thy twine." 

"Catch, cling and wed," green's cypress in red, 
"Clematis, I'm coming, from just out of bed. 
For my sake, cousin, do listen to rue, 
The bitter with sweet they always grew." 

'Away with your green, your red, and your rue 
Away in this tree I know what to do. 
From olden wall to stoop to rue, 
To lose me all, is sweet to you. 
My cup is the flower that favors the sky, 
I'm affianced to silver , don't ask me why." 

80 scrambling nature round about. 
Doth lead the mind to rambling rout ; 
That press the fancy through the trees 
That almost seem to try to please. 

Drunk with rain, or sweet with dew, 
From dus,ky mantle, all look new, 
And creeping things from in let pour. 
Peeps out to view the beauty o'er ; 
Sits bird on high the while to sing 
To breezes of Sei-aphic wing. 
Animalculae drinks of the same dew. 
And passes with its sweetness through, 
The porous veiij vouchsafed to drink. 
Which almost makes the vine to think ; 
For the little that's left of thought's refrain. 
Opens door to let in rain. 
Although minute, yet's given it brain. 
That leads to how it might restrain 
The flow of sap through part of vine 
That round the heart of tree would twine. 

May 5, 1888. 



51 
LEAEN TO CONDENSE. 

A little com III on sense 

Will stive 3'OLi much suspense, 
After writing what vou wait to see in print. 

Better save your wit, 

And stop and think a bit, 
Than compel a man to make you take the hint. 

If you want to write a book, 
(xo ahead on your own hook ; 

Not publish to the world you have a brain, 
For that we all suppose, 
If 3'ou know just when to close, 

And leave us pleased to have you come again. 



AX AT THE EOOT OF THE TREE. 

I hold in my hand the heart of an oak 
That fell by the ax of the woodman's stroke; 
And wept I, a boy, for its fall on a clump. 
And the breaking of heart in parting wi^h stump. 

When the dear parent tree was making the start, 
And the wail to the welkin was weeping the part. 
There was something like sighing of parent dying, 
When the boatman is near with his barque. 

And the ])ale that he wears in the long oar's dip 
Resembles the pale of the old oak's leaf. 
And remembers the care at the brink not to slij). 
Remembers the life that was brief! 

The sorrowing clump that we see through the wail 
Com])ares to the saplings the old tree broke. 
The difference seemt? only the one's sad and lonely. 
The other is felled by the stroke. 

I will frame a <'.ro8S of this heart, that it be 



f>2 

A reminder of the felled of the tree, 

Of the parent and child, and dead, and who smiled 

At the ax at the root of the tree. 



ANGELINA. 

While the' dew of night was falling on thereof 

above my head, 
I lay, a boy, a sleeping on my little trndle be d, 
And I dreamed of Angelina, the girl that dropped 

the corn, 
She never ceased beside me till the beauty of the 

morn. 

I heard a voice then call me, a voice awake I knew 
III scrambling for my stockings I saw a little shoe. 
And I thought of Angelina, and thought to take a 

peep, 
As she lay beneath the covers, like an angel, fast 

asleep. 

I hurried down to mother, and asked that she 

would call 
The girl who wore the shoe I'd seen that looked 

so very small. 
I remember feeling bashful, tongue not ver}" glib, 
And ran to fill the baskets with seed-corn at the 

crib. 

I think I saw the other shoe; yes, I know I did, 
But back within a bonnet Angelina's face was hid ; 
And the girl dropped corn beside me, that is, in 

other row ; 
And the way went Angelina was just the way I'd 

go. 

While near farm hoes were riffing, of course we 
did not talk, 



53 

But dropped the corn in crosses as fast as we 

could walk ; 
And the farmers did not hear us after once we'd 

got ahead, 
That is, what all we talked about, if anything we 

said. 

Tell me if the spirit's wooing, played between the 

rows apart. 
Or did I feel the nearness of a girl of tender heart? 
For I felt I saw through bonnet tlie fairest beauty 

born. 
As I wandered far asunder of the place to drop 

the corn. 

You may have your thread of mystery all woven 
into woof, 

While I think of Angelina and the dew upon the 
roof; 

I want no spirit by me but the spirit of the boon, 

That welkin to my feelings, the starry blend of 
moon. 

That lay in face before me, when God said, "Let 
her sleep." 

I want no guide the better than from the pres- 
ence creep, 

I feel no chiding spirit for the guilt that knew no 

sm, 
As I vibrate to the memories that take the cabin 

in; 
And I echo to the fancy, that rhythm into rhyme, 
And bring the sweet to altar of the only heaven's 

shrine. 

We do to one another, when we play the better 
part 



54 

Of doing human credit to the feelings of the heart; 
For all along the journey that human feet have 

trod, 
We see beside our footsteps, blest of all, is God. 

April 25, 1888. 

JOE BURNETT. 

While John and Joe were quarreling. 

Their father came along. 
And soon resolved to whip the one 

He thought was in the wrong. 
Poor Joe was the one to catch the licks, 

And grievous were they to be borne ; 
For what they cost, then helped to fix 

The destiny that Joe had sworn. 

The fall out was about a hammer 

That John had found in Joseph's care ; 
Not half so much the use or wear. 

But only — John had found it there. 
"Never, father, while you live, 

Offense to John I'll ever give; 
And ho may have all mother's care, 

And see if he thinks that that is fair." 

Thus spoke the boy through choking sobs. 

While at his heart the tempter robs; 
The parent's eyes and John's then met, 

And Jonas Burnett ^elt regret. 
Like spirits, the three now move apart, 

And Joe was first to make the start; 
His sister, Bettie, sought at play. 

Was first to hear he'd go away. 
She felt Joe's hand about her arm. 

And went with him not fearing harm, 
And down by the brook and around the hill, 



55 

To the road that led 8traii>:ht to a mill. 
And on this road they walked and talked slow, 

The talk all about where Joe would go; 
Never a venture far from home, 

Never a thought that Joe would roam. 

In sight of a river's riffling trill, 

They both catch sight of the olden mill; 
And soon the mill-pond's threat'ning source 

Would lay within a bended course. 
And here the brother kissed a hand 

That went apart at his command, 
And only for the words ot the child, 

Could we ever know that Joe ihere smiled. 

'Twas her little feet tracked back the way, 

That Joe's had gone that troubled day, 
To where her toys yet scattered lay; 

To parents not a word would say. 
Soon, lengthened shadows tell of night; 

And house lit up with candle-light, 
A numerous family take their place, 

Around the board, and wait lor grace. 

A pause is given, a glance goes round, 

But not the looked for one is found; 
Then bowed his head, and low his prayer 

From bleeding heart, for one not there. 
In sitting-room returned from meal, 

No one can tell how others feel, 
For tear, the course of tear would trace, 

When each beheld a vacant space. 

Could a mother's feelings be doubted by him, 
When full of tears her eyes now pwim? 

Could jealousy that brings a pout, 

Content John's mind with Joe left out? 



56 

Could love for child a mother doabt, 

When weeps the cliild for child left out? 
God then hear the mother's prayei*, 
To save to her the child she bear? 

if so, for whom does the mother pray? 

For child at home, or child away? 
We think we hear the Lord now say, 

"She prays for all with one away." 
For feeling child, though tar away, 

Is still with the children all at play. 
Each child was a child to feel her care, 

Before poor Joe was born to spare. 

When all are in arief, she asked for blessing, 

Seems but to one alone addressing, 
And faith in lively exercise 

Claims all that's asked so undisguised. 
Of one belief comes belief to all; 

The leaven sufficient, though it be small; 
And father bows to his consent, 

Just what she prayed his tears too meant. 

And none did dare to speak, through fear; 

It might increase the flow of tears. 
The strength oft sought, was found in child. 

And felt by all, when Bettie smiled. 
And told how Joe had kissed her hand, 

And how she stepped in soft wet sand, 
And told of the path along by the brook. 

And the big road came just after the crook. 

And toed the floor when she said^ "Joe said, 

Bettie, I wish that I were dead. 
And pointed away far off to a hill. 

And said, I go beyond the mill." 
The great tall clock against the wall, 



57 

Struck slow the hours that warn the small; 
And soon 'twas found that Bettie slept, 
While midnight's changes onward crept. 

One by one, all went to bed, 

Though hope to rest, had almost fled; 
The sleep was that of wakeful night, 

When troubled thought at ghost takes fright. 
The morning dawned, with no relief; 

The time at meal was very brief; 
Through some mistake, 'twas seen just there 

Where Joe had sat, an empty chair. 

Woods were thick and houses few; 

In valley, hawthorn densely grew, 
And buildings only on the hill, 

Could well be seen from flour mill; 
And from this oft sought grateful spot. 

Was watched one neighboring peasant's cot; 
They thought it was. that Joe might roam 

To height of hill, to see his home. 

But of this hope, no tidings came; 

And few there were who knew his name, 
And might quite easy be deceived, 

If boy on purpose parents grieved. 
Counsel stood to send a man 

To hunt the youth from land to land. 
Coast and shore not to to be spared; 

To stay away he well prepared. 

To aid this search the willing came, 
Devotees of faith of christian name, 

And all the m^ans they could command 
The neighbors gave with willing hand. 

Description of the one away 
Was tried to learn from day to dayj 



58 

Still, only beauty of the lad 

Was the description any had. 
To find the lost, the one to go. 

By height or mark the boy must know; 
How big he was, no one could tell, 

Nor find a boy to answer well. 
And John was called for what he knew, 

Who felt the shame, yet answered true, 
And said, "my brother wears no scar 

Than can, I think, his features mar'; 
•But over the temple, under the haif, 

There is a wound, I struck him there; 
I feel so sorry for the blow. 

For Joe would not let father know. 
He had my hammer hid away 

To crack some nuts on Sabbath day, 
And when I troubled in the find, 

Joe was not of yielding mind.' 
'And when I found he tried to snatch it, 

'Twas then I hit him with the hatchet; 
Along with you I wish to go, 

I think that 1 would brother know." 
Tnis resolved the sought to find, 

To take the youth of sorrowing mind, 
And they set out late in the day. 

And through the forest made their way. 
The country being wild and new, 

Highways were far between and lew, . 
And paths traversed by deer and bear, 

'Twas hard to find Joe's footprint there. 
Although obstruction would defy, 

A little is left to practiced eye; 
The foot of a bear and that of a boy 

Are enough alike to serve cl§Qoy. 



59 

Slow and careful was the trace. 

Till reached was quite an open space; 
And here, by reason of a recent rain, 

In moistened earth the track was plain. 
Lytle and John then counselled wise, 

To wait for morninc^'s clearer skies, 
And made their bed in darker shade. 

Then shadowed the earth where track was made. 

The howl of wolf and panthei-soream 

Disturbed repose, and troubled dream; 
What thoughts arise of home and mother, 

In wilderness child in search of brother. 
Morning dawned, the day wasbrigh':, 

Encouraged mind forgot the night; 
John bent to earth to view the track, 

To heart it brought his brother back. 

It was not long till course of boy 

Was plainly found to heighten joy, 
And led them to a great highway 

That had been traveled on that day, 
Which lost the trail to hopeful mind; 

No track of Joe's could either find, 
For on this road, so mixed the travel, 

Or claim to track would thousands cavil. 

Another counsel served relief, 

And glad the thought it had been brief; 
To a city shore this highway led. 

Whereto the wandering youth had fled. 
And all the way, on either side, 

Are houses built where folks abide, 
Who might have seen poor barefoot Joe, 

For others might not like him go. 
Without a coat or vest or shoes. 



60 

To a city bound, would none excuse; 
An<i this might greatly aid the find, 

Such was redoubled strength of mind. 
'I hen onward straight they bent their way, 

Eegard'ess of the time of day; 
What hunirer might for others crave, 

To them in search, no comfort gave. 

Not far ahead, beside the road, 

There sat a man on wagon load ; 
Of him was asked the time of day, 

And who had passed along the way, 
He said, '^T'is sometime after noon, 

Tmgoing to the house, I'll tell you soon; 
Few iiave passed since yesterday, 

Just iiow many, I could not say." 

Then Lytic said, "we are hunting a boy; 

Have you a lad in your emj^loy? 
•• No," said the man on load of stone 

I've boys enough that are my own; 
1 anderstood my sons to say 

That a boy went by at break of day ; 
Whether 'twas yesterday or not, 

Declare to goodness, I've forgot." 

This rouse>l an anxious thought to know 

AViiich waythe boy was wont to go ; 
"Twas met by answer deep and slow, 

The cares of life contused me so, ^ 

Fi'oni whence he oame, or what his name. 

To nic nl. time wus all the same ; 
It struck me first, he's homeward bound 

After something sought was found. 

Just then lo ear there came a sound 

From whence a team in mud was bound ; 



61 

With one consent they all three go, 

Who further would the matter know. 
And soon 'twas learned that ox and goad 

Were not sufficient to move the load, 
Consisting most of iron and cotton, 

From a city house where it was gotten. 
Where teamster said he saw a boy 

Laborir g under the firm's emploj^ ; 
Described the pants and hat he wore, 

And said he worked on the second floor. 
Dillsworth and Stowe's, their number is twenty ; 

Take one of their cards, the same I have plenty ; 
'' A lift, if you please, at all the wheels," 

Continued the man in earnest appeals. 
All joined in the lift, the team pulled out; 

"I'm safe from the mud," came back with a shout; 
While Lytle and John, invited by friend, 

Went back with the man the night to spend. 
With him they ate the fat of ihe land, 

Dealt out to all by serving hand ; 
Comfort provided they spent a glad t ii2:ht. 

And arose in the morning by the time it was light. 

How beautiful is morning when sky is so clear 

That no cast but the blue of horizon appear! 
How at loss is the mind from the feeling employed 

Having nothing to do, all care destroyed ! 
So felt J*ohn and L5^tle on that summer morn, 

As they looked at the flowers that natureadorn 
For the lost to them found, or within their reach, 

A pleasant day's journej" would cure up the 
breach. 
So much n ore was thought engaged with the 
country, 



62 

To mention the bo}^ none could have the affron- 

tery ; 

The morning'3 repast had made them feel 

stJ-ong, 

And the journey ahead seemed not to them long. 

How frail is poor mortal, and sees not the end ; 

To squander a fortune misfortune will lend , 

And what is accomplished, or found in the end, 

Contains admonition, the kindness of friend. 

But while we enjoy the things that now be, 

The things to experience, we scarce ever see; 
Though oft of the like is the like so near told, 

That the venture beyond is a venture too bold: 
And I fear for a friend whose adventure is o'er; 

Unseen to that one, there is something more; 
And oh ! the regrets that trouble the mind, 

After fearless effort has lost in the find. 

Our Ly tie and John stepped out on the way, 

When theearih to the sun was making display; 
They should have gone on, not stayed over 
night. 

And have captured the hoy before it was light. 
The beauty of scene, most pleasing to eye. 

Is sometimes found where a city is nigh ; 
And so to thfc weary, it happened that day, 

Who feasted their souls at the close of day. 

Lytle was a man of true courage and bold ; 

There is much said of him that he never told ; 
But it fell from the pen of emint)nt men. 

And passes him through the dismal glen. 
How often has it happened, to indulge a boy, 

A man of exj)erience will lose his emj^loy , 
Chasing squirrels in the woods, or larks in the field, 



63 

If a boy long for this, one older will yield. 

And when a boy is tiivd, and nig-ht is coming on, 

Others will do, as did Lytle and John ; 
Dear-bought experience in fishing alone 

Is the cause of the turning ot many a stoiiC. 
Just ahead lay a town environed by hills, 

That echoed to valley, the voice of mills ; 
Beside it a stream bearing burdens of craft, 

Propelled by strong oarsmen, lore and alt. 
Lytle grew silent as he entered its streets ; 

There was more in his thoughts than the gazer 
meets ; 
He was treading over ground once trod on by feet 

Of the savage of prowl, he was then v>^ont to 
meet. 
Not far in advance, soon reached was a spot, 

Where once in a cabin, he lay on a cot, 
All wounded and mangled by Iritcbetand ball ; 

For the act of one Indian lie liated them all. 

And just where the river inlets to the hill, 

There sparkled and danced a sweet little rill ; 
And oft he remembered he di-ank from tlie stream 
That played from the hill to the charm of his 
dream. 
For the scenes of his youth coming back with a 
swell, 
Lost not of the cabin, where thoughi would 
fain dwell ; 
Though awake to his errand, yet he felt- that he 
dreamed ; 
There was nothing to sight, like at heart it 
seemed. 

Then Lytle to John began to relate, 



64 

The void of tiio wilds, before liiey were state ; 
They talked lill they entered an inn f r a meal, 

When the town elock struek the midnii;-ht ]ieal. 
Surpi'ised and at wonder how last the lime flew, 

Th(?i'e remained bnt one thini;' that either eoiild 
do, 
Retii'e for the night and breakfast m the morning, 

And leavo what follows for others a warning. 

How often a marksman talks about aim. 

To a friend that is nigh, in sight of the game; 
The thing seems so eas}' he thiid^s to do soon. 

He waits till he talks, and the game has then 
flown. 
Botli hungry and tired, they now go to bed , 

The yawning of ehasm would swallow the bed ; 
So passed the little of night that remained , 

Little knowledge of rest had either obtained. 

For others complained of being disturbed ; 

Of a rein somewiiere loosethat had better been 
curbed , 
But nevertheless^ f^^^,y were up betimes, 

And the landlord laughed when he raked in the 
dimes. 
Lyile then took the keeper aside. 

And told of his mission, in the height ol his pride, 
Who lent him, who sent him, and pressed him to 
go ; 
They'd put up at his house, Ue'd have him to 
know. 

"Now, my lord, please tell me where's Dillsworth 
and Stowe's; 
They are dealers in iron, and have great cotton 
mows;" 



65 

"Certainly, certainly, there is notliini^ to cheat. 
There stands the house just across tlie street.'' 

There's a tact and a turn in human thought, 
That overlooks some great thing wrougiit ; 

With deep intent to ancients' will. 

Seeks back to find when over the hill. 

A man to know when he is smart. 

Must prove his point by perfect ai't. 
And render nothing more to man, 

Thau doth his motive easy scan. 
So great the pressure on mind and heart; 

Lytle teels to back to make the start ; 
And John growls pale to think his mother 

Expects him soon to find his brother. 

Across the street, mounting up to sky, 

Is the great warehouse four stories high , 
And entrance doors thrown open wide 

To whirl of trade around outside. 
Slow the two made straight their way, 

Studying the while what first to say; 
Within the doorway stood a man 

Discussing some shrewd business plan. 

Few minutes walk till he w^as through, 

Determined mind just what to do ; 
To take the firm to top of stairs, 

As carpenters would, to make repairs. 
Soon Dillsworth lent a willing ear. 

And all their story bent to hear, 
And adding, too, said, "I've a plan , 

I'll lend you John my serving man." 

This arranged, four mount the stairs, 

All talking over snug repairs, 
As there's a doorway, but the door 



66 

Was taken for a lower floor ; 
And you may make one plain and strong; 

Winter is coming, it wo'nt be long; 
You may change the rail at top of stair, 

AiKi tit a piece to give it flare. 

A step, to open doorway space, 

Drew every eye to just that place; 
A head poked through, revealed a face 

Of youth and beautv's fluest trace. 
When gazer's eyes and gazers meet. 

Of hopes and fears can neither cheat ; 
John's thoughts abroad are better told 

Through chilling look of orbit's cold. 
And here I wish to say to you, 

The story'w true of one I knew ; 
Which makes my heart regret the tears 

That parents wept for flfty years. 
The head drew back, the four stood still. 

And Irozen hope lost mind to will. 
First Dills worth moved, then followed on 

The hunter, Lytle and John, and John. 

Thej" passed to space where Joe appeared ; 

To go beyond they almost feared. 
Lest boy might through the window leaj) 

To where below a roof was steep. 
A moment'.^ time could not be lo»\ 

Beyond the pause experience cost ; 
Dillsworth reckoned on the chance 

To nab the youth by quick advance. 
All followed him, because he knew 

Each vacant space, the house all tin^ough 
A careful search he instigated ; 

In nothing desired \t. compensated. 



67 

A pair of new shoes quite recently bought 

Were found about where Joe had wrought : 
Hung on a nail a summer hat; 

In haste to flee the boy left that. 
Tlie house being searched above and below, 

To river next, they all did go ; 
And seeing their haste the question, "Why," 

Was asked, "do these four men fl,y ?" 
And caused a numerous crowd to follow, 

To far beyond a Id 11 and hollow, 
To where a view of I'iver bend, 

All passing crait to eye would lend. 

There various boats could wejiltli emi)h)y, 

To push trom shore and catch the boy ; 
And of this truth might much avail 

Were not men borsi to wftcii fail. 
The craft they sought had just passed by ; 

The distance gained all oars .defy; 
And sorrowing group lor what they lack, 

Or being too kite, must travel baci-:. 
How grieved is man when trust reposed. 

Finds avenue to hope all closed ; 
When sunbeam's lost to human eye, 

And bkicl< cioud^ move across the sky, 
How dark and deep a river seems, 

When storm is felt to be close by. 

How cold to hoaii, is voice of man. 
When it contains no future plan. 

That makes us glad un'il the time 
When we shall reap of prospect fine. 

Lytic and John go back to hotel ; 
Over their minds a gloom then fell; 

One must soon return to his home, 



68 
The other far to westward roam. 

He sees a swift dark river 

Pursuing winding way ; 
Us waters for to mingle 

With ocean far away. 
And sees upon its bubbling swells, 

A skiif that all obstruction quells; 
And wonders that a mother's pride 

Should flee away from home to hid6. 

But so it is in youth's bright day, 

Though reared by care, forget the way, 
And after years can only tell, 

Whether or not they did as well. 
Hatless, coatless, without shoes he fled; 

Kest forgotten on trundle-bed, 
And home forsaken for other land, 

xlnd harder fare than love's command. 

What spirit to act doth look impart 

When promptings come from acking heart? 
Direction felt is more than signed; 

So Lytle felt to move his mind. 
No lightning's flash over wires speed, 

^'or had a thought yet felt its need ; 
Slow and by horse the mails all went; 

Sealed without cover, letters were sent. 

Keel boats, flat boats, canoe and skiff; 

The latter moved b}; stroke most swift ; 
In other words, compelled to speed, 

The skiff would always take the lead ; 
Joe's selection of a craft, 

Was found to be with storage aft. 
With one to steer and one to row, 

The skiff though large would faster go. 



69 
Pursuit with thought to overtake, 

Was lost to hope as well as wake ; 
To follow slow had Lytle planned, 

And let the swifter vessel land. 
With this resolved, pushed out from shore 

Just far enough to use an oar; 
Though his progress would be slow. 

Those met or seen would something know. 

He thus obtained a quiet view 

Of places old and village new, 
And sometimes stopped to hunt and fish, 

Go on or sta}^, to suit his wish, 
At Louisville, a point of trade, 

He learned a purchase had been made. 
Of a cap and shoes, and knives and belts; 

Paid for were they in wild beast's pelts. 

The dealer well described two boys. 

The size a trapper oft employs. 
And said the boys well knew each other 

And thought the one was the other's brother. 
Some men engaged in building raft, 

Described a skiff with storage aft ; 
Said one of the two that manned the boat, 

They thought they noticed, wore no coat. 

And agreed the boat was painted gay, 

None like it before had gone that way; 
"I should rather say not," a by-stander said, 

"On the side near the stern was a turtle's head.' 
^ever from load the boat must bed, 

Over the eyes of the turtle's head ; 
This precaution found in skill, 

Had wrought the boat to never fill. 



70 
Hope no loiio-er left in dark, 

Could now well follow piiinted mark; 
The hunter bowed his pleased consent, 

And after the turtle's head he went, 
Down the river, down the river. 

Far below the falls, 
Fearless dashed the bark of Lytle 

Met by tempest squalls. 

Da^'S and nights had passed, 

And Lytle's boat lay to at last ; 
For near the mouth of a valley stream, 

There lay the picture of a dream. 
Our hunter felt himself redressed, 

F(>r what the waves and wind distressed; 
A tree's broad branches shadowed the boat 

That Joseph Burnett left afloat. 

By foot-prints left close by in sand. 

Two persons of late had gone inland ; 
As their return might be quite late, 

Eesolved his mind return to wait. 
Lytle kindled a fire and cooked a meal, 

And ate till hunger lost appeal, 
And then hung iip to dry, a coat, 

And while it dried, a letter wrote. 

Informing wife and friends away, 

Of happenings from day to day; 
He wrote the past full up to date. 

Then folded the sheet to further wait. 
In a forest dense, the night comes soon. 

Before the shine of star or moon, 
And what we take for close of day, 

Has led the mind full hours astray. 



71 

Lytle drew on what pleased his pride , 

A peaked crowned cap of tanned otter hide; 
And wearing a jacket rolled up in front, 

He looked like a man rigged out for a hunt. 
The blue vault of sky, now set with a star, 

Through the curtains of night, seemed not very 
far ; 
For a hill took its height from distance to sky ; 

Looking over its brow, brought star very nigh. 

How beautiful is water lying hugged to shore 

Under tree's low bough, where shadows pour; 
The silver line whore shadow meets, 

The near mid stream, grand scene completes. 
How charmed is ear by nature's call, 

Or voice of stream in water's fall ; 
Over rock and pebble, glad its flow 

From rugged height to plain below. 

But ear had caught another sound 

Of falling teet upon the ground ; 
Approach to boat, contains to eyes, 

Two sprightly lads about of a size. 
Our hunter, the boys' surprise enjoys 

And greets them with, "Good evening, boj^s ; 
This country is wild and pretty and new ; 

I hope you'll let me stay with you. 

"I want to learn to hunt and trap ; 

I've bought myself a hunter's wrap ; 
And here's a hide made into cap. 

That cost an otter all his nap. 
And there's my boat tied up to shore ; 

Of things to eat I have a store ; . . 

I brought a bag of clothes to wear ; 

I tore my coat a hunting bear. 



72 
"And here's a i^un, it wants a flint ; 

I've a liundred of them, I need not stint ; 
That's all, except the stopped up vent, 

Tlie gun got wet, tlie ramrod's bent. 
1 have four knives, I'll give you two ; 

•They cost me a pig, they're almost new ; 
I've lots of clothes too small for me, 

And blankets enough for all us three. 
"I've powder and lead in a very dry ])lace ; 

My rifle's ns good as ever went to your face ; 
I am glad for the luck you have had today, 

Hunting and trapping is nothing but piay. 
Please let me see the minks you have caught ; 

The fur looks as jrood as ever was bou^'ht" 
The boys now could talk, and telt not atraid ; 

Friends of them both the hunter had made. 
•'And here, boys, here are two pairs of boots, 

And tomorrow you shall see how the old gun 
shoots." 

Improving his time, he stirred up the fire 

And cooked them a meal to suit their desire ; 
And while they were eating, he skinned all the 
mink, 

Hung the hides up to dry before they could 
think ; 
And caught some nice fish and put them to soak ; 
To keep off mosquitoes, burned leaves of an 6hk ; 
The bo^'s were rejoiced, they thought he, was 
han(l>j- 
I To djl^i^vhat he said, was sweeter than candy. 
if ,-No;w^iwas the time to please them some more, 
f^ft'^^-^'^^^'^^^"^^'^^ of. tfli« things he had kept in store, 
' ?!l^i|i'f ^^^^ ^^^ ^y^ ^^^ better^provided. i#* 



.\v.,- 






73 

With things they enjoyed, then Lytle divided. 
Of the lialf that he had, he had never told ; 

Consisting of garments to keep out the cold, 
And shoes for their feet, and stockings close Unit; 
Aston islied were they to get such a tit. 

Next, the boj's talked of the deer they had seen ; 
Joe asked the old hunter if his rifle cracked 
keen ; 
And told of a gun his father once had, 

That burst with a roar and hurt a man bad; 
That man was his father, though he kept it con- 
cealed, 
Save the strain on his feelings his sad face re- 
vealed. 
Tom Crossle}^, his partner, knew from his looks. 
With home and his people he was still keeping 
books. 

Those books were of memory never to fade, 

Though the head be in sleep on the pillow oft 
laid ; 
To the end of a life, doth memory hold out, 

Though oft while it sleeps is it held in doubt. 
No matter how obstructed, no matter the woe. 

Memory will follow wherever we go. 
Not a store-house of mind, as many have said, 

But a faculty of brain when store-house has 
fled. 

Tom was an orphan, his parents were dead ; 

Their memory to him had forever fled ; 
And he was a trapper by his uncle's consent, 

Who told him to go, before he went. 
In him the wild woods could no love destroy ; 

Persuasion secured, lost on either boy ; 



74 

Persistence in one to stay with the other. 

Had weakened the claim so felt by the mother. 

Tom's uncle was a wagon-maUer 

Well skilled in the trade, 
And Tom teased his uncle 

Till the big skiff he made. 
It hud stern, deck and hatches, 

To keep out the rain, 
And studied to be handy 

By a very careful brain. 

Lytle's answer was to Joe, "The rifle's crack is 
sharp, 
And trigger woi'ksas easy as ])laying on a harp" 
And said the hunter smiling, while shoving down 
the ball, 
"If luck and chance be mine to day, a deer must 
surely fall ;" 
With gun well primed the}' started out; 

The time they went was soon ; 
The hunter shot two deer and a coon 
Long before 'twas noon. 

And trapper Tom was twice made glad, 

For in one trap he found 
A large fat bear with jet black hair, ^ 

A lying on the ground. 
Soon a rifle's crack was heard, 

And sped a leaden ball. 
And bruin's ear no more could hear 

A hunter's gun or call, 
A smaller trap had caught a mink. 

And twenty were not sprung ; 
The hunter laughed, it made him tiiink 



75 

Of joy when he was young. 
Joe not there, was snug in camp, 

And dreamed while he was snoozing, 
Of another gun, and a crooked thumb. 

His father at home was using. 

For two to go, and one to stay, 

Had left Joe watchman for the day ; 
Awake all night had found daylight 

The time to sleep in place of night. 
When Joe roused up, to his surprise, 

With all his strength he could not rise ; 
Something weighty held him down 

And would not yield to frel or frown. 

Full wideawake, for sleep had fled. 

He pulled the blanket from his head, 
When to his horror, fear and dread, 

A monstrous bear lay in the bed. 
And what his effort had defied 

Was found to be the hear was tied. 
One paw below, and one above. 

As though the bear the boy would love. 

Joe never thought of kind caress. 

But screamed and hallooed in distress; 
We need not tell who planned tlie joke, 

But leave the world to laugh and choke. 
They all felt well the bear thev could sell 

At a town ten miles below, 
To where they repair, while the weather is fair, 

For soon would the Fall winds blow. 

The bear was soon sold for silver and gold, 

His fat helped on with the sale ; 
The oil of a bear being good for the hair. 



76 

Such inducement to buy couldn't fiiil. 
Before their return, Lytle finished his letter 

That told of his finding Joe ; 
Eequestinc reply through a passer-by, 

Shpuld any go down below. 

They found in town, while walking round, 

A man b}^ the name of Straff ; 
A merry man he appeared to be 

Enjoying a hearty laugh. 
Eeference to him had not been given. 

That 'hoy should seek long him to find, 
But rather curious to know somebody 

Of a jolh^ turn of mind. 

Straff told the hoys of a home in the south, 

Of a woods forever green. 
Of bear and (ieer and animals queer 

That many a time he'd seen. 
He told young Joe of a pretty little girl, 

'Vh'Ai sang whan she went for the cows. 
And warmed her feet where the cows had lain 

Eene.ith lh(' piiu- tree'rs boughs. 

"And to tiiat land," said he, "I'll go 

\VluMi the Autumn time is here, 
Vov there, I know we'll have no snow 

At Clirisinias tirao of year. 
And now n y 1 oy- , when you come back 

To sell the game you've caught, 
Remember B-ll around the hill. 

Before m thing you've bought. 

"L'll tell you better w^hat 3'ou need, 

Than all you know yourself; 
On pone and cheese, I live at ease, 



77 

I've money on the shelf." 
The sun set clear in western sky, 

The time to leave was drawing ni.sih ; 
With Straff, the boys had made a trade 

Of hides for a kettle, ax and spade. 

All things ready, they left in the night, 

And rowed six miles belore daylight; 
And stopped to prospect countr}^ o'er. 

Upon a river's verdant shore. 
The scene in woods at break of day, 

Is mellow light and silv^er ray, 
And woodland washed by dew of night, 

Wears luster glorious to the sight. " 

There the soil was strong and now ; 

There the amaranth hugged to the rue, 
The two by strength combined, indue 

The bitter and sweet which together grew. 
The even size of body of tree, 

Helps the thoughts lo quick agree , 
When such is found there's depth of soil 

To yield reward to honest toil. 

A thousand acres in prospect lie, 

Declined and raised to please the eye; 
Two miles from shore, or back from river, 

Was coursed a stream by God tlie giver. 
And pleasant hill on either side. 

Raised a thought to pleasure's ))ride ; 
Enameled banks along its course, 

Led the mind to seek its source. 

Its bearings ran to south of ea^t ; 

When valley came, its width increased; 
And here and there the wild gra})es hung, 

Where tender vine to tree boui^hs clung. 



78 

And soapstono jilts ran into stream, 

To mini^le blue vvitli nun's bright beam ; 

And nhelving rock, where fishes hide 
In water deep, where stream is wide, 

Enticed the mind to longer dwell, 

Where scene increased to deepen spell; 
And reach recess of inner soul, 

And add to joy the golden bowl. 
'Twas Sabbath day, and nature knew it; 

Disturb the quiet, and man would rue it; 
On sunny bank, behold the swirl 

Of water pool in infant whirl ; 

And murmuring voice as comes from brook, 

Seeks to mind, this favored nook ; 
The eye, in easy searchings, cull; 

Squirrel on tree the green nuts hull ; 
And spotted fawn cools thirst and stands, 

Beholding shadow and pearly sands; 
And bird iis bosom feathers flush 

In silent pool from waters rush. 

And seeking turtle finds a stone 

Heated by rays of sun alone, 
And warms its feet, and dries its shell : 

Its quietude its comforts tell. 
Persuasion hitherto in breast. 

Is now disturbed with great unrest , 
Experience knows so well of youth, 

The struggle is hard to smother truth. 
A river long and dark and swift, 

Con. pared to this the brighter gift, 
Could chill the mind and add despair, 

Forebode the worst and bide the fair. 
The hope that Tom or Joe would go 



79 

Was lost; foreseen iU overthrow; 
And future cost to mind appears, 
And styled the boyg the pioneers. 

The boys were ghid and talked of Bill, 

At the town below, around the hill ; 
And Lytle knew to Bill they'd go 

As soon as Autumn winds would blow. 
The day fast drawing to a close, 

The three with one consent arose, 
And soon were back to river side. 

Selecting spot their boats to hide. 

Then kindled a fire, and cooked to eat 

A pone of bread, with tender meat , 
And then lay down and went to sleep, 

And nothing knew till daylight's peep, 
Lytle called the boys and opened his mind, 

How he had come young Joe to find. 
And hinted deep, a mother's praj'er 

Was seeking God to bless them there. 

And told of his love for a boy at home 

That he never could think to spare ; 
The boy and his mother would wish him back, 

That very mornirg fair. 
And Fifer, the faithful dog, is looking, 

And howls for my return ; 
And Jim is pilinir on the chips, 

To make the fire burn. 

And Mary will say, ''If Tom were here, 

The morning is so fine, 
I'd have no fear he'd have a deer 

Before an hour's time." 
This day I'll start for home, boys, 



80 

I'm weary ot 8t{i3"ing here ; 
So fill' :iwuy, 1 cam ot stjiy, 
For all the bear and dt'n^v. 

And just before I reach the house, 

I'll Wiiistle for old Fife, 
And l»e will come with a livel}' bound ; 

For me he'd lose his life. 
And what shall I say to your mother, Joe? 

Come, thinu up somethin<i; quick ! 
"Tell her, it hasn't been long, I didn't do wrong; 

Tell John I feel the lick. 

"Tell daddy he mightily missed his guess; 

I'll never come back again, 
To learn a trade with brother Wess, 

Or give my mother pain. 
And Eube may have his pouting moods, 

And John his great big ways ; 
Hannah may have the chicken broods, 

And Bettie her pretty plays. 

"And Will may work for himself alone, 

Not help to clear the farm. 
And Sarah say, 'Joe with Wess must stay,' 

I wish the girl no harm. 
And Wess may pound the red-hot iron 

With a hammer little and nice, 
But I won't sledge to draw out a wedge, 

Or strike for an ugly splice. 

'*But Si was always good to me, 

And laughed when I broke his hook, 

And carried a stick to tap old Dick, 
When I plowed down by the brook. 

Tell the woods and the bear, I'd love to be there 
To hunt with a dog and gun; 



81 

But til] Woss is dead, there'd bo soir.cthino- .said 
If Joe had any fun. 

"Tell mother to churn, and the whip stalk burn, 

For father has missed his guess ; 
I wouhl rather be dead than to ever learn 

The blacksmith trade with Wess. 
I will go with old Bill from around the hill, 

To a land that blooms with rosies ; 
Tell Bettie, mj^ sister, I love her still ; 

I'll gather for her some posies." 

Said Lytic, "You're born of a stubborn will ; 

You are sending your mother a bitter pill. 
And causing your father's head to bow, 

As he walks in the furrow behind the plow ; 
For the seed time is here, he plows for wheat, 

And plans that you come for a share ; 
That God' the giver, will furnish you bread, 

Is a part of his humble prayer. 

"And now% I divide remaining store, 

Giving all that I have to spare ; 
In Heaven above, where God is love, 

I hope to meet you there." 
He jumped in his boat, and the waters smole, 

And applied with strength the oars ; 
Like a bird in flight, he was soon lost to sight, 

Save a speck between the shores. 
Two weeks from the time that Lytic left, 

The bo3's were loading a skiff 
With furs and game, we're safe to claim. 

More than a man could lift. 
When the load was in, they pulled from shore ; 

Their course lay down the stream. 
To sell to a man who kept a store, 



82 
And owned a cattle team. 

They thought it well, before they'd sell, 

To see their friend old Bill ; 
They found him at homo, sitting alone. 

Ready a story to tell. 
He'd just received some word from home ; 

Was happy for prospects bright ; 
That when he'd get home to pumpkin pone, 

He could eat for a day and night. 

And said the folks and the pretty little girl 

Had lately moved to town , 
Their team and farm, and big log barn, 

Were rented to young Jim Brown. 
And Jim and Ins sister are keeping house, 

For the young man has no wife ; 
Now Tom, if you'll go, the girl you shall know , 

About Jim there's a sigiit of life. 

They talked all night till broad daylight, 

And finished a breakfast meal ; 
8aid Bill with a will, to have you hero,* 

You know just how 1 leel. 
They went to the store of Walter Brown, 

A brother to Jim Brown's daddy ; 
A short thick man, at a slight quick scan, 

He looked like a smooth stuffed Paddy. 
'•Good morning, Paddy," spoke William Straff, 

"I've something from the Eichland route ; 
Two trappers, and furs with no blood blurs, 

Is something worth talking about." 
"Yes, yes, Mr. Straff," said Brown wilh a laugh, 

"Here whole hides aro taken in ; 
To look at them and buy them, after I spy them, 

Is che !»?i^l)t of '"'"'y pleasure and sin." 



83 

Come Kittie," said Brown, to a black-eyed girl, 

"Who came with a skip and a smile; 

But when she saw Tom, she bit at her thuinl), 

And stayed but a little while. 
She said to her father, the furs are all good ; 

After quickly inspecting each hide ; 
Then left with a shy or droop of the eye, 

Discovering a cunning pride. 

Then Paddy proceeded to pay the boys ; 

It turned out unequal one cent. 
And so would remain, to the trouble of bi*ain, 

Till one boy gave or lent. 
Spoke Walter Brown, "Give the cent to Kittie; 

She's considered somewhat in the deal ; 
A til row off on fur would be no slur ; 

It mi.-.ht be that better she'd feel." 

"Friend," said Tom, "that will never do ; 

We will cut the cent in two ; 
One half to Joe, one half to me. 

The right to both forever be." 
"You've my father's ways and they made him rich;" 

Said Brown, as he hitched a shoulder ; 
"The upholding of light is honor bright. 

And shouldn't make a woman a scolder." 

Said Tom, "If I ever got money enough, 

There's land I intend to hny; 
The last hunting ground of Joe and me ; 

No ])retiier under the sky. ' 
Walter Brown smiled, and thought of his child; 

What a husband to her Tom couki be; 
And he told 1-Littie so, and waited to know 

If his wife she would like to be. 

Paddy was a man of considerable means, 



84 

Eerivcd from estates abroad ; 
A plain unassuming man was he, 

Who never exeused a fraud. 
Atler studying a minute, Kiltie replied, 

'If Jie asks me to have him I'll do it; 
If he eall me his dove without my love, 

The day will come when he'll rue it." 

A wedding was planned, she ^ave Tom her hand; 

Brown gave him the cattle and cart. 
And paid for the land, and gave him command, 

So he'd feel no stint in the start. 
"Come, listen m}^ boy," said Straff to Joe, 

As back to his cabin they both walked slow; 
"Paddy's a charmer, and fat in his ways, - 

And wealth is the humor he always plays. 

"And Tom's got a fortune to begin with in life, 

But Kitty's a scolder, the Devil for a wife ; 
Hills will have settled to level of plain. 

Before her affection he ever will gain. 
There is higii boi-n and low born, suited to will, 

But the high with the low is a bit'er pill ; 
Poverty and rirhes don't ])ull well together, 

When one throws hack' the load on the other 

"Paddy's a gentleman and kind to me, 

But it leavc's Jim's sister still at sea ; 
And she would have made him the best of a wife; 

He c<»uldiii have ])!Ovoked her to save his life." 
VVilii;im Str:iff\vas a prophet, his prediction proved 
trre ; 

Yes, he told things to happen, just like he knew. 
When Trim's wife was pouting, Tom knew that 
she meant 

'J'hat she and her fortune were not worth a half 



85 
cent. 

And Tom, in his worry, would reflect back to 
Paddy ; 
The faults of his wife w^ere known to her daddy; 
We leave them the world aud their fortune to try; 
If they don't get along the reason's plain why. 
Old Bill and Joe packed and left for the South ; 
What they th<»ught of Tom's wedding escaped 
not the mouth ; 
They reached the fair land, and were pleased to 
find 
All things well arranged to suit the mmd. 

And a sweet little givl felt curious to know, 

How pretty was the boy, Uncle Will called Joe; 
And soon as 'twas known that Bill was his friend, 

The neighbors flocked in their leisure to spend. 
The crops were all gathering, the glee time of year 

Was talked of, and thought of, and soon would 
appear ; 
And no one was sparing of pleasure to lend 

To the joy and the comfort of Bill's young friend. 

To helj) Jim to be kind, Florence came to h's aid; 

To stay cii a farm, soon a bargain was made , 
And the brother and sister to further be kind. 

Opened up a school to improve Joe's mind. 
For the youth, though handsome, was awkward 
in speech, 

And needed instruction from one who could 
teach ; 
And Florence, Jim's sister, well skilled in the art, 

Could lessons m G-rammar to Joe impart. 

The spirit was in her, to help .loe improve, 
Apart from a selfish desire to move ; 



8() 

And Joe, a bri^-lU boy of sti'ono- native mind 
Was quick, tlie advantao-e ot iearnin<^^ to find, 

And soon became learned and able to stand. 
With powers of speech at full command. 

And often was chosen abroad in debate, 

On questions, involvini^ the rights of a state. 

On the merit ot ins claims, the people were loud • 

To be his companions were thousands proud ; 
And Joe, twent3'-one, took his ])lace as a man 

Who for a great future was laying. a plan. 
To visit the town Joe was often inclined. 

In search of a jewel to please his mind. 
And old Wm Straff soon joined in the find 

Not knowing where to hunt; Joe was left behind. 

It was learned by old Bill, that a lady dressed fine 

Had 'eft Mobile at half past nine ; 
Whither she had gone, no one could tell ; 

To suit him no other would do as well. 
In speaking to a merchant, old Bill said, "Friend, 

We have come to the city some money to spend; 
Wliat can you give us for an eagle or two 

And add to the bargain, one stoji with you?" 
"I'll encourage the comfort sought by man, 

Over house and store give a partial command ; 
Not being enough if closely scanned, 

To the younger of two, add daughter's hand. 
Considering hard hints so much too small. 

The money shove back to the joy all. 
And join in the joke that ever thee came 

To get my consent to change a name." 

^To be plain," whispered Bill, never playing to 
tease. 



87 

"Here's a suitor for the girl, kind sir, if 3'()u 
please." 
"All prime," spoke the other, "but for a young man 
Who carried off the pi-ize, not knowing .your, 
plan ; 
And your kind proposal, n])peaiing not in print. 
Your feelings for the present, must h)se by the 
hint ; 
The girl has gone abroad, awoi'king up delusion;" 
Old Bill asked where, nil eovei-ed witli confusion 

"To spend a few days at the home of one Straff.'' 

Replied the proud falhei-in-law, roni'ing witli a 
laugh ; 
For Joe had been mai'ried to the prett y Miss Brant, 

Whose voice was so clear, its tone would encliant. 
Old Bill crimsoned, and gave Brant his hand, 

Planning well to deeeive,you may tiike command 
"And here, my young friend, "turning round to Joe, 

''Your joy is my heart wherever you go." 

Maria soon kissed hei- husband at Straff' s ; 

Infairs were many, renewing the laughs ; 
And pleasant the hours of bi'ide and groom. 

And future invoked to bring no gloom. 
Major Brant gave his daughter a great cotton 
farm. 

To keep her in bread, and fear no harm ; 
Of nothing of luxury soon were they shorn, 

And six pretty daughters were unto them born. 

I need not traverse life's uneven way, 
For full fitty years since Joe went away, 

But speak of the cares of a part of the time, 

When the war had come to a southern clime ; 

Which war had destroyed improvements of farm, 



88 

And lell liltn no peace, and exposed to liartn ; 
Tlie pale horse and i*ider', and i*avaii;e of war. 
His family and home Irom his bosom lore. 

His wife and four <laiiglUers were dead and i^one, 

All -buried in a yard where once was a lawn; 
Florence and Maria, the tw'o that I'emain, 

Are left to the fatlier, botli dressed very plain. 
The names ot his sisters, were the names oi the 
dead ; 

Save this, of his feelings there is little said ; 
So call to the living revives them again ; 

Sunk in oblivion those names remain. 

At Memphis, Tennessee, in the year seventy-four, 

On business involving the fortunes of war, 
A sti'anger w^as strolling along the streets 

When lo! of a wonder, Joe Burnett he meets. 
A man six feet and wearing no blight, 

With broad square shoulders conforming to 
height, 
Straight in the back not bending to eartli, 

With a face calm and fixed, wearing'candor and 
wortii. 

Of his old home and people was willing to speak; 

To dissemble in the least appeared not to seek; 
Talked freely of the duty of parent and child ; 

Never chide but remember a child is a child. 
The sw^eeter and better way for families to live, 

No matter who's wrong, the wrong to forgive. 

To begin well and end well is a nice point in life. 
And never accomplished where there is strife. 

My parents went in sorrow, down to the grave, 
Partly for the cause that I stood out brave. 



89 

Unyielding to will, tluit will was so cold ; 

For the Rake of ii brother my jmreiits would 
scold ; 
Ai'd I was so youno', how could I know better, 

Than to sever the tie that compelled like a fetter. 

True to the thought I would only go back, 

To see what the keeping of a promise could lack, 
In bringing my parents to know full well, 

I could feel in mv heart what they couldn't 
compel. 
Stayed away too long; ah, that was my sin ; 

My fiither and mother lontr dead had been, 
And heart-broken Joe by their grave, could it be. 

Thought dead by brothers, still 'twas me. 

What memory of his father had ever he kept, 

To know liim to the living when he had slept; 
As he looked through tears, thought this, I'll say 

He was from the ocean far away. 
For his father was from an eastern shore, 

Near where the foaming billows roar. 
And many friends he there forsook, 

And westwardly his way he took. 
Fortune led his steps this way ; 

For many years he here did stay; 
Built and improved and cleared a fiirm. 

And lived in peace and free from harm. 
His ways were firm and some retired ; 

For unwavering perseverance, was much 
admired ; 
For approbation he did not seek, 

And what he thought, feared not to speak. 
And by his side slept a mother dear; 

To moisten her dust, Joe wept a tear ; 



90 

And he tried to find where Bettie phiyed 
Beneath n tender willow's shade, 

That grew to shelter a fine grindstone, 
That he had turned when he was young ; 

But lo! there his eye no object met ; 

To the things that were, the sun had set. 

Bettie was dead, the tree not there ; 

The stone was taken away ; 
J^ot a toy in the play, could he find that day, 

And the grass was waving gray. 
Long there he stood in solemn thought, 

And mused on changes time had wrought ; 
For those he loved had passed away, 

And were mingling with the mother clay. 

No welcome hand there did him grcel, 

As in 3^ears gone by he was wont to meet; 
No tr^ice of kindred friends was seen ; 

All seemed vanished like a dream. 
No path that led down to the spring, 

From whence he came to water bring, 
And set it down at time of meal, 

In answer to a kind appeal. 

Surveyed he all the rocks and hills, 

And shrubs and trees and murmui-ing rills. 
And fence of stone 'long bank of brook. 

His father's once so favored nook ; 
And added to it, was much more done, 

Unknown to him, when he was .young; 
For what isVlone while one's away. 

By whom, can that one scarcely say. 

From one more favored spot than all, 

His memory would still yet recall, 
AVherc stood the old sweet apple tree, 



91 

And loni( its fruits remembered be ; 
Where the cat-bird sat to chat his glees, 
Tlirough the vista of years the eye still sees. 

And myrtle clinging to old house walls, 

Resisting time, and tempest squalls. 
And how it clung, and crept and climbed, 

Was still a mystery to the mind. 
Where wren still built, where brick was out, 

Was just the same, beyond ;i doubt ; 
Still bird from bird's posterity, 

Had found their home to ever be. 

The walls of the house looked grim and dark, 

For ceaseless time had laid its mark ; 
The window's mossy sash and sills. 

With shattered glass looked out lo hills. 
The flowery hill, and locust grove, 

Where he in youth was wont to rove, , 
The flowei's and trees to view had gone. 

And hill was set in grass alone. 
And path that led with wind of brook, 

AVas washed away and lost to crook. 
Where it turned to the road, the last he knew, 

IJriers and elders thickl}^ grew. 
Where first he plowed, the field was old.; 

Appejirance there was color of gold ; 
And near, the tree that furnished the stick, 

That j)()or Si used, to tap old Dick. 

Over field and tree, an age had crept ; 

Joe thought of this, and then he wept : 
While there he mused and gazed around, 

A: quiet stillness reigned profound , 
No sound of footsteps there was heard, 

No moan of winds no song of bird. 



92 

Naught resounds to the olden din; 

He steps to take a look within ; 
The old brass knob to the door was loose; 

A hundred years had been its use ; 
Not to the door that it was on, 

Had the old knob served so very long. 

And the crane to the jam swinging in and out, 
To the will governed hand, that moved it about; 

And the song of the kettle over the blaze, 
Beside it the pot containing maize, 

J?e-enacts to the mind, to startle the gaze, 
Repairing to table to eat of the maize. 

And back from the fire and out of the way. 
Brothers and sisters in cut-up and play, 

And heard the coarse voice of parent, "Be still;" 
Submit to the order against the will. 

Back beside the clock on the cherry wood stand. 
Bunch of marigold flowers clutched by a hand, 

And above it a picture of a merry young queen 
Reaching down toward the flowers, completed 
the scene. 

There's a start, a stop, a creak of the hinge, 
A break of a dojr, a bent nail dinge. 

Joe well out, turned himself about; 
And whither and whither he went 

Is proven to one b}^ the nail head dent. 



TO THE MEMORY OF ALBERT SIDNEY 

JOHNSON WHO FELL AT THK BATTLE OF 

SHILOII IN 1862. 

Albert Sidney, God hath snid 
Dust to dust an: 01 g the dead; 
And sorrowing, the very spheres, 
Bemoans the fewness of thy years. 



93 

Mingling with tlie heavens rain, 
That can return and come again, 
Is thy blooLJ on hill of slain; 
Where thick the dead are lain. 

Voiceless, utter no command; 
Blood-bathed, in thy right hand 
The sword given thee to fight, 
For what was taught to be the right. 

Be kissed away thou seal of death. 
Fallen here among the heath; 
And resurrected mortal body try 
To live for something more to die. 

He giveth, he taketh away; 

Thunders cannon around the senseless clay 

But not a brow more heaven white. 

Or laurel worn of fame more bright. 

Adds kiss of mother sweetness to die ; 
Birthst.'unp is God's let where the mother be, 
On Shil..h's hill-brow fell he; 
Born to dust of mortals was to be. 

Gleams sword where lightenings flash, 
And solid shot human brains out-dash, 
Yet spared is Albert Sidney's brow 
To comfort us in beauty until now. 

Limp the sword arm, bear him up ; 
Here, give him water let him sup; 
The old spring Sidney, at foot of hill, 
To drink of it be thy will. 

Moves not the lips apart; 

Must be that stills the heart ; 

For the great man always wore a smile, 



94 



When he drank at home from the old spring 

tile. 
Whispers the death angel, fleds, the spirit the 

clay, 
Of the lovely in death, Albert Sidney J 



THE GADITE'S FLIGHT. 

The Gadite trembled with terror, 
When he looked ou'. on the plain, 

And saw the host a comi no- 
Was the friends of one he'd slain. 

And he felt himself so lonely 
In a far off land from home. 

As he thought of a city of refuge, 
As deathlike on they come. 

His gaze was loosing a moment 
To the coming wheel of time; 

And following like the shadows, 
Was lengthing out the line ; 

As the swifter of pursurers. 
Were leaving some behind. 

And vfhy their tread was deadly, 
Was torture to his mind ; 

Poor trembling mortal sought then, 
A way his life to find. 

And prayer was in his mind then; 

O! Lord, to me be given, 
The power to reach the refuge ; 

For thou hast made the heaven. 

Just then there came a warning, 
" A fool has time to spare. 



95 

Shake thyself, Cradite, 

Prepare to cleave the air. 
" The crush of tlie sand uoath fooi-sole, 

Will cease lor the harder <ii"<Mmd ; 
Nothing but flight will save you. 

Flee if you would be crowned. 

" Flee from this countr}" 

The home ot the stranger; 
Flee from the plain 

And hill of danger ; 
Flee from the Keubenile 

Or blood avenger. 

" Flee past thy own home 

And the coming to meet, ♦ 

The wife of thy bosom, 
Or child of thy feet. 

Flee like the Hitite, 
Flee like the fleet. 

" Flee by the grain fields 

And haunts when a boy ; 
The nature and sunshine, 

Serving decoy. 

" Though summer of love 
Be vanished for snow ; 
Better thou flee, 
While's thine to go." 

Catching sight of his life 

Weighed in the scales. 
Of the all lost hope, 

Of the dismal wails, 
He sped for the refuge, 

Scarce leaving a trace ; 



96 

For ho flew as lie van, 

From the vory earth's face 



THE DEITY FLOWER. 

Have«ever you seen the Deit}' flowei-, 

A flower tlmt is scarce in the land? 
When one attempts to describe it. 

He loses all seH command. 
For 'tis within all human ambition 

To tell of the thin<^s we have seen ; 
Much more is the pride of an artist, 

To paint the fairest of glean. 

But the failure to descril)e when the lines 

Are obscure, by the chan^inii; of shades, 
Is a failure that names not the whose 

Production conies nearest the fades. 
For the flower is fading and newing 

From the time it begins to grow ; 
It changes from hue to huing, 

'Till it reaches as white as snow. 

Jus?t when it is going to Idush, 

Then settle to colorless white, 
Is a thing uncertain of moment. 

Though occurring through day or night. 
For man)' of the hues and shades of flowers 

Fade out here in the one, 
Which, while they were found on others. 

They never before had done. 

Setting back apparently to nothingness, 
Out of which the}^ apparently come, 

While attempting to describe how this can be, 
Is Humanity's tongue struck dumb? 

The shape of the flower is an oblong, 



97 

Aiul resembles a human eye, 

In this, that the centre's an orbit 

With leaves forming canop3^ 

Eeflected with sliadow is sunlight. 

As it pours through curtain of gauze; 
Forced is the light into darkness, 

Which is the shadow's cause. 
For in both of the corners is tissue 

Forming a nectary sponge; 
Light coming down through canopy, 

Into the tissues plunge. 

The colors from tissue reflected. 

As well as Irom shades of lid, 
Reflect the orbit a ruby. 

With interior exterior hid. 
For there's a button-shaped bur in the centre. 

Enriched by jjlands not a few ; 
Inspiring a thought, that interior soul 

Sees out through red and blue. 

There's a time when the flower closes. 

But when, I never have known ; 
There's a time when the flower matures, 

For its seed is found there sown. 
I wish I knew of its dark from fair, 

But of this I now despair ; 
It must be in fall in a northern clime, 

But in southern, quite different there. 

I found it in almost tropical clime; 

I found it m Illinois. 
Last saw it in a northern lowland 

Where hunters set decoys, 
In the midst of a bunch of gray blue flags 

Six reeds of dark green grow ; 



98 

Between two and two, on each side grew 
Two just out ot row. 

The two growing out from near the center 

We say of a hollow square. 
Are the two which crook like a crane's neck at top, 

And the only two that bear. 
The other four bear long bursting buds, 

A little coned in shape ; 
And growing from between these buds are seen 

Leaves as ridged as crape. 

On the bearing stalk the leaves are long, 

From center, sloping to point; 
Where the leaves come out is a])pearance ot spi'out. 

Then comes a swell for joint. 
The long way of flower is three spans around ; 

Circumference half the same. 
The more you behold it, the more you unfold it, 

To think whence "^he richness came. 



GEAMMAE FOE CHILDEKN. 

Three little words, as sweet as can be. 
Are not half so sweet as a, an and the. 
The former can only be fair to your face, 
The latter be articles never out of place. 

Folks strain their wits for a name that will rin*'- 

o ' 

While the truth is a noun is the name of a thinir. 
School, hoop, garden, have noun foi- a name. 
And old Squire Adjective a share in the same; 
The Squire feeling proud may live in n town, 
And be great in a small, pretty house, white <.r 

brown ; 
Instead of noun head pronouns may stand — 
As h§r head, his face, your arm, my hand. 



99 

Verbs keep telling of soinethiiig to bo done, 
To help us to jump, read, laugh or run ; 
The love for all keeps bright lit k of ti-ace, 
That, never a verb get out of its place. 
Just how things ai'e done, little adverbs tell. 
Whether slowly, quickly, ill or well; 
How like little children, dare none pursue, 
Mother's now hid and can't see 3'ou. 

Conjunction^ are used to join words together, 
As ducks and geese, wind and weather. 
The beauty of speech, the best to teach 
Is that within a nei^'hbors reach. 

Prepositions must always stand betore noun. 
As in and thi-ough the door, look at the hound , 
Not through the door that hangs on hinge, 
i>ui twixt the jams from which we scringe. 
Leave out the door-way and the scringe, 
Ai.d never's the door upon its hinge. 

Intei'jection shows little or much sur])rise 
Wiien the exclamation is ah! how wise. 
In truth interjection is no less fitty 
When wo say, how lovel}^, O! how pretty. 
The interjection denotes surprise 
Beyond dispute of weak or wise. 

Tlui whole sums up nine par^s of speech 
Which reading and writing was made to teach. 
One part left out destroys the reach, 
And never the n an can mend the breach. 
June 9, 1888. 



100 
DEFINITION OF VIBRATE, 
OR THE VERB TRANSITIVE OR INTRAN 
SITIVE EXPLAINED. 

There's a vibrate moves the fancies, 

As feelings stir the lieart, 
With the absent of the memories 

That strove to get a start ; 
That strove to add to the comfort 

Of the old log house abode 
That stands where middle of field is, 

Away from public road. 

There's a moving of the watchers, 

There's a wake from fast asleep, 
There's a coming out of silence 

Of the dead to take a peep ; 
There's a coming back to memory 

Of the dreaded then alert. 
There's a strive to brave the heart there 

That never dartd lo shirk. 

There's a golden fall of sunlight, 

There's a beeiuty of the morn, 
There's a da}^ of toil before them, 

Who feel for children born ; 
The cattle-team from couching 

Have left off chewing their cud ; 
Have bowed under j^okes put on them. 

With all its weight of wood. 

The settler is quick and watchful, 

Between the house and pens ; 
There's a chatter among the guineas. 

There's cackle among the hens, 



101 

There's a taking down of the rifle, 
There's a step to look lor foe, 

There's a meeting witli a nelglibor 
And learning his tale of woo. 

The Indians had taken liis wife 

To wliere he inquired to know ; 
Had dealt the next to the yoiinge^L child. 

An almost fatal blow ; 
Had taken his liorse, 

Driven off his cow, 
And caused his head 

In grief to bow. 4 

The wife who hears the trouble 

Is shivering as if with cold. 
For she knows her hardy hu^^band 

Will not his help withhold ; 
She knows a search will follow, 

Like hounds on the Indians' trail ; 
In parting with her husband 

She fears her strength will fail. 

How served this as a warning. 

That soon might be her lot, 
Exchanging, for the wild wood, 

The loved and sunnj^ spot 
That knew her first exertion, 

In maize that grew for home ; 
As she thought of this she shuddered 

For the one compelled to roam. 

There's an after retrospection 

That takes the cabin in, 
There's a harvest where was wildwood, 

There's a feeling of the din, 



102 

There's a care with circumspection, 
There's a breath that's soft and thin, 

There's a field's expanse to reason. 
That fleds away the sin. 

There's a told to the Creator, 

The bread was got by sweat, 
That cost each mortal body 

Its earn to pay the debt ; 
Where they died is left for others 

Who toil for wordly gain, 
Where's sheltered now the fleece flock 

Is cabin back from lane. 

Tliere's a nest inside a chimney, 

There's a swallow that flits in air; 
Ancestored with its history, 

Is the bird that built it there ; 
To the edges left of first nest, 

Was nest renewed again ; 
So was kept up all its hollow 

To the cabin back from lane. 

Ls drank from the same old springlet, 

Is drank from the silvery tide ; 
Is seen the gray of the crawfish 

Hugged to its rocky side ; 
Tlie feelings that come of refreshing, 

That cools the heated brow, 
Bi-ings back by the side of the water 

The soon of the then and now. 
But the olden mill — where is it, 

That stood just below the spring? 
Have they turned it into a smith's shop? 

Do I hear the anvil ring? 



103 

Go, cease the sound though 'tis music, 
While I listen for the voice of the ixrind. 

While I think of the meal he waits for ; 
Waits the settler of patient mind. 

Where's a stone that's rude from quarry, 
Is a grassplot out in the field ; 

There's a gee to the horse going round it, 
There's a haw for the stint in the yield. 

There's a boast as — I own every foot of it- 
No place for a graveyard here ; 

There's talk of removing to cemetry, — 
Still goes the talk each year. 

The hundred years that followed — 

The then of our early day — 
Has nigh forgot to the memory 

Just how the country lay ; 
Add fifty more and withers 

The heath beyond the welt, 
And nothing of the former 

By any man is felt. 
June, 1888. 



ONE FINGEEBD TIM. 
Pleasant the hour beneath the bower, 

When Susie's heart grew glad ; 
She thought ol a stream she'd seen in a dream 

Mixed up with a handsome lad. 

Susie's parent lived rich and grand, 
Had plenty of money at his command ; 
And Susie an artist tried to be, 
And often thought to paint the sea. 

The maid to the parlor came to sweep, 



104 

And Susie would not her company keep, 
And gathering up her paints and book, 
She sought a bowery little nook. 

While in thid sweet and quiet place. 
She thought to paint with better <xrace ; 
Stream in dream had caught her eye, — 
On fancy's wings she brought it nigh. 

A fish on water made to swim 
Filled her fanc}^ to the brim ; 
Slow and careful she proceeded, 
All things handy that she needed. 

First she drew the shore with the river bend, 
Then drew a line across the end ; 
Forgot the fish and drew the lad, 
And drew herself a looking glad, 
And maid a sweeping, looking mad. 

Then her mind returned to stream. 
Painted that just like in dream ; 
Next the fish began to flounder 
In size, about a dozen pounder. 

And Susie said, ''The fish now plays, 
i now will paint the sun some rays ;" 
Soon to earth the sunbeams pour 
Piercing fish and boy and shore. 
And Susie said, "Indeed 'tis hot, 
The heat has reached this very spot ; 
I'm almost melted with the sun, 
So I will to the spring-house run." 
vShe heard a voice : "I come to the shade 
To fix my shoe and mend the spade." 
Said Sue, "I will not frightened be. 
Seeing, John, 'tis only thee." 



1U5 

"No ma'am, I never change my name 
'Tin One Fingered Tim ever the same.'' 
"Indeed! a name I never heard," 
Said Sue, in a voice as sweet as a bird. 

And as she spoke Tim glanced at Sue, 
And went on fixing of iiis shoe ; 
Said he, "'Tis hot, tiie jessamines grov^, 
I took up one, 'twas out of the row." 

"What will you do with it," said Sue; 

Said Tim, "I'll set it out for you." 

Sue blushed and shied a glance at Tim 

And thought of the fish she'd painted to swim. 

"How handy it is to know a trade, 
And mend a shoe and fix a spade; 
I've felt to-day a restless wooinir 
Just step and see w^hat I've been doing.'* 

Then turning to the scene of dream, 

Tim saw her eye in rapture beam; 

She brought the iniinting to his view, 

And looked at Tim ; he looked at Sue. 

Spoke Tim, "'Tis smart to know the art, 

You've beat all (►ther women ; 

There's none on earth, with all their worlh, 

Can paint a fish a swimming. 

"The river is p'ain on shore ; I see 

A lad; by jing he looks like me ; 

But the girl with the broom I never knew; 

She isn't one-half as pretty as you. 

"The sun is hot but the boy can stand it, 

Though I think he'd better try the. shade a bit; 

'ihe sunbeams, fall on the water is grand : 

You're about to faint, let me take your hand." 



106 

Susie's Ikint was over in ;i inimite; 
Slie soon was sini^'inii; like a linnet; 
The mu.sic tell on willi!ii|^ ear, 
And iiever forgot tor many a year. 

And Susie sai»l, "Suppose it could be. 

I should have one linger and thunib like thee; 

Could I to you be like a brother? 

We'd go ai'ound about together." 

Said Tim, whose eyes began loswim, 
"Yonder's a poplar tall and slim, 
And does not I'ender half the shade 
As the arbor does, along with a maid. 

"I see a bird on j'onder tree; 

I wonder what bird its wife can be, — 

Not half s<» sweet as you to me 

I know his wife can ever be. 

''I lost my fingers to save one's life, — 

I'd find them in a little wife ; 

And now, if you will promised be, 

I'll cast with thee my destiny." 

She looked at the man from full depth of soul, — 

Her cup was the full of the golden bowl; 

She said, "If my father should question me, 

Whom should I tell him Tim could be?" 

"Tell him that Tim could be so bold 

As to plunge in water when the weather was cold; 

To battle with wave and tide of the sea 

And come off alive after saving three." 

Sue went to her father and told him all, — 

He bowed his head and then grew tall ; 

"My answer, my child, will not be to thee, 

Go seek thy lover and send him to me." 



107 

She started out and was lost in the crowd, 
Whoso voices were heard in raerriment loud ; 
She pressed her search under skies that were fair 
'Till the dew drops fell through the hazy air; 

Then turned to her home with a sorrowful heart, 
Where a father was waiting to play his part : 
"I am glad you returned before it is late, 
What have you to say of your lover's fate?" 

Said Sue, "Ho has gone, I know not where, — 
I'll hunt him again when the weather is fair ; 
If return to thee, father, yet find thee grum, 
From searching again I never will come." 

Her father drew on his glasses and smiled, — 
His heart was pained, he felt for his child ; 
His mind went back through many a year , 
He had put on his glasses to hide a tear. 

"Your mother, my child, was just like you, 
And to her first love forever was true ; 
And now she is dead my heart is inclined. 
Let what will come, I'll join in the find." 

"Is it all to dismiss him when his history is told ? 

Will your hand a poor outcast shelter from cold ? 

For I think from his shoes and poor broken spade, 

He little of fortune ever hath made." 

"You know you are busy every day in the store, 

Are worth a million and still want more; 

My lover's a man that comes to us poor; 

Will you, when we find, spurn him from the door?" 

"All you have seen and all you have told 

Would be but saving a beggar from cold ; 

I think I could do it for a sailor bold. 

Who would save a life without cost of gold." 



108 

'*My lovftr's a man that never can swim; 
Ho goes by the name ot One Fingered Tim ; 
Reversal can never add to his name, — 
Tim one fingered reads forever the same. 

"Deprived of hifi hand save one thumb and finger, 
He never could save the one thai would linger; 
What could he do in the surging sea ? 
Pray now, dear father, answ^er me." 

"He could battle the waves with the other hand 
'Till a stronger arm would take command ; 
Then swim ashore with courage true. 
And claim the right to marry you." 

"Battling with the other would not save you, 
With all the courage you ever knew ; 
One arm to swim and one arm to save. 
Would soon find at sea a watery grave. 

'•AH this poor Tim has tried to do. 
In mending his spado and fixing his shoe; 
And winning a heart that he thinks is true, 
And trying to get the consent of you." 
"I think that his part is nicely ^ilaj'ed, — 
He hides himself and sends the maid ; 
The "bravo," indeed, I would love to see, 
To know for myself who Tim could be. 
"And since he has tried his hand to swim, 
If he comes back aij^ain I'll take him in, 
If with thumb and finger I find him bold, 
I'll make his saving cost some gold." 
Susie retired to sleep on her bed, — 
A thousand thoughts passed through het- head ; 
She determined at last he'd come back to the 
bower ; 



109 

She fell asleep to await the hour. 

Morning dawned all splendid and brii^ht, 
With joyous dreams she spent tlie niglit ; 
She dreamed that a vessel with bi-okon h-ili 
Would come to the surface when the wind would 
lull. 

And on lis deck all dressed in white, 
A company stood in love's deliglit ; 
And marriage bells were chiming sweet, — 
Herself and Tim were glad to meet. 

Transporting rapturous scenes were given, — 
Her father's store was moved to lieave» , 
And all his goods had changed their hue, 
And shone so bright and looked si^ new. 

She told the dream at the morning meal, 
And tried to tell how it made her feel ; 
After Susie and father had broken the last, 
The lather sat down to review the past. 

And long he sat in solemn thought, 

And mused on changes time had wrought; 

Those he loved had passed away, 

And were mjngling with the mother clay. 

While thus he mused in thought profound, 
His daughter. Sue, had made her round ; 
And Tim was fDund in the bower nigh ; 
A tear of joy was in his eye. 

And Sue had told all that was said, — 
What a dream she had when she went to bed ; 
And now he must go and her father see, 
Before they quite could married be. 

Tim's nerves were strong and courage bold, — 



no 

His love for Sue and not her gold ; 

He stepped to the door and gently knocked, 

Sue's father came and the door unlocked. 

Two gazes met as never before , 
They 'eyed each other for seconds or more. 
Tim felt no guilt and knew no sin, — 
Sue's father spoke and said, "Come in." 

Tim entered a parlor rich and fine, 
With stained decanters reddened with wine; 
And goblets o'erflowing with frozen cream. 
And silver fount and tricklins; stream ; 

And damask curtains to gold knobs hantr; 
On the strings of a harp the solt winds sang ; 
The rockers and sofas and cushions of ease, 
Induced a rest in the moaning breeze. 

The clock in mahogany on mantel looked fine, 
And struck a sweet note — the time was for nine ; 
While we are describing and looking things over, 
Tim lelt himself in glorious clover. 

The difference we mark in the looks of the men, 
Is the difference common with human ken ; 
Old Simon Chadic, for such was his name, 
Was lordly in power and stature and fame; 

While Tim with his boot sewed up with a string. 
And pants legs straight without curve or a spring, 
And coat that was torn almost into shreds, 
Such as moves us to pity or fills us Avith dreads. 

Chadic said. "Stranger from whence came you 

here ? 
Have you come for to steal or hiding through 

fear?" 



Ill 

"Hither" said Tim, ^'1 have come for Sue ; 

I would not have come, but I thought ^'Ou knew.'' 

"You have come for my child! strange thought 

indeed ;' 
Tell us some more and quick 1}^ proceed.'' 
"I love her," says Tim, "that is all of the right, 
To find her at home is my heart's delight. 

"And you, her kind father, invited me in ; 
I am here Susan's lover, I think it no sin ; 
My father was a Qijaker and wore a broad brim, 
His son is a beggar called One Fingered Tim." 

"How do you know that you love this young 

maid ? 
How do you know but the feeling will fade ? 
How do you know with my daughter's hand, 
You half of a living could ever command ?" 

"How did 1 know on a billowy wave, 
Not being a swimmer, a soul I could save ? 
'Tis the spirit to try attaches the power, — 
I sought her and won her in the lovel}^ bower." 

"You're a sailor, I suppose, with courage bold ; 
Your histoj-y while sailing has never been told ; 
Why should it trouble me what yuu have done 
Or turned out a beggar, a Quaker's son ?" 

"Why should I raise to a sea chest afloat 
Three strangled beings the sea had smote ? 
Why should my hand, now off to the palm, 
Be asking of riches one single aim ? 

"Why didn't I loosen my grip on the hasp, 
Or let go the hold on one in death's grasp? 
Why did the wrecked boat colliding to linger 



112 

Leave on my lumd one tluimb .'ind finger?" 

"Strange derivation, from a short sea swim 

A man should be called Tliumb One Fingered 

Tim ; 
Stranger, he asks for my only child." 
So spolce the proud man, and Chadic smiled. 

"Add, that I toil for a widowed mother,— 
My fiather is dead, I have no brother , 
^or sister to smile at my evening's returning; 
It is strange that the spark of my life is kept 
burning." 

Eestraintive powers could stand no more, 
Chadic arose and walked l\\v floor ; 
When he at last came to a stand, 
His deep look was one like sifting sami ; 

Or like sifting to bottom the pearl to find, 
When absorbed in a question that tangled (nirid ; 
His feet were like one with the other would ])'irt ; 
He stood on a feeling he felt at his heart. 

"You are a stranger," he said, "pi-av answer a 

test, 
A question lies hidden deep in my breast: 
Am 1 one of the three you saved at ^ea? 
Tell me the words you said to mo, 

"Grive me a sign well known to me. 
Or a mark by which I am known to thee ; 
Come, stand up to the right, on the life of a man, 
And answer me the best you can." 

Tim stood erect, his body grew slim, 
While Chadic's eyes were fastened on him, 
And said, "In the ocean I was trj-ing to "swim. 



113 

And hold up a man with a bearded chin. 

"I felt that I was bearing moi*e tlian my load, 
That my course was leadini^ the downward road • 
I said to the man with tlie bearded chin, 
'My hand is otf, you must tr}' to swim.' 

"'Twas the Vulture that was wrecked, perhaps 

you knew, — 
The nii^ht was dark and the wild winds blew; 
She dashed on the rocks where the bank is bluff, 
And the waves there whirl when the sea is rough. 

"The vessel and laden in pieces afloat 

Made dangerous the venture of an}' wreck boat; 

A very large chest with silver clasp 

As it floated b}', I caught by the hasp. 

'•Thei-e struggled around me a whole ship's crew, 

And passengers tew, but none I knew ; 

I caught, with the hand not engaged with the 

cliest, 
A drowning child b}' ".he liair and w)'ist. 

"And drew her and cast her upon the float, 
And cjiughi up a woman the sea had sijiuti'; 
And landing her safe with the one before, 
Just then a man came on a wave from shoi'e. 

'•Jlini I seized by tlie beard, not thinking it wrong; 
iSomc })ulled out as I took him along, 
"I'ill a life boat, dashed b}' the fury of storm. 
Struck tiie great sea box and shattered my arm, 

"And struck off one hand less a flnger and thumb. 
And threw us adrift all chilled and numb; 
And soon my hold broke on the beard of his chin; 
The life boat aside then took us in. 



114 

"Belore i'eiicl»irig shore I was seized with ajtain, 
FoHowed by tever that went to tl»e brniti , 
And all tluit I know of the ship and ert-vv 
Is what I have tried to tell to you." 

Just to their left a door opened sly, — 
Susan stepped in with joy in her eye; 
Ee^-arding their glances, said, "I have heard 
Of things being told by the voice of a bird, 

"But I have been listening through a crevice 

small. 
And am ready to hear your decision all." 
And her father sa'd, "Take her, I give her to 

thee, 
Her life is no better than mine was to me. 

"Sue and her mother and I are the three 
Your courage saved from the waves of the seu ; 
You plunged in water when the weather was 

cold, 
Here is a check for thousands of gold ; 

"Take it and dress as becomes to be 
A husband to Sue and a son to me, 

"Save your rags for a wallet, them never destro3^ 
That you never forget the beggar bo}' ; 
There's strength in one, and fellowshij) in two, 
And finding of three saved up to you. 

"When new waj^s have vanished and old become 

new. 
Do unto others as I have done to jou, 
And here, my child Sue, is my present to you, 
Thirty thousand pounds for being true. 

"And when my house-keeper makes her return, 



115 

I'll cause tlie wedding tires to burn ; 

I feel lilie ti boy myself to-day, — 

•In my beard tliere's only a spot that's gray. 

"And that's where the hair was pulled out at 

sea, 
When thumb and finger Tim was saving me ; 
Sue's the child caught in the swirl, 
Come round to Tim to be his girl. 

"The difference in age is scaicely seen, — 
Tim is thirty and Sue sixteen ; 
And I will be seventy the day I marry, 
I'll count no time I single tarr}'," 

^!ii :^ ^'. ^ ^ ^ -^ ^ 

WEDDING. 

Jingle, jingle, went the bells, 

And all cathedrals toned their swells, 

A hundred harpsters were there gathered. 

That could play the sea storm weathered. 

Ninety-nine wore white silk dresses, 
With flowers woven in their tresses; 
Nimbly moved the whirl of dancers; 
Knights appeared on champing prancers. 

The silver fount threw feathery spray. 
Glorious was the wedding day ; 
Still the house-keeper stayed away , 
Others took her place and sway. 

And tables felt the sway of harvest. 
Brought from every field of blessing. 
Astonished where the guests assembled, 
At display of tables' dressing. 

Yainly strove the walk to enter 



116 

On the bride and bridegroom center, 
All the curious gaze to see, 
But their time could not yet be. 

Swept the strings of gentle rhj^ming, 
Fingm^ed heart thrills soul of wooing, 
Felt the cheer of each note swelling, 
The path oflifeway ever smoothing. 

Where is Chadic, the word went round : 
Has he forsook the wedding ground ? 
Has he some selfish nook so lately found, 
To which to satisfy his mind has gone ? 

Blow the bugles, call him back again ; 
Sweet Ij^'ic floats upon the breeze. 

There's a cottage by the sea where a lone widow 

lives 
And he has gone the widow to see ; 
And the question, the question, who can she be 
In the cottage down b}' the sea? 

Oh, the night has gone 

And the morning is young 

And Chadic comes marching in; 

But the widow, the widow, 

Leans not on his arm. 

And sad seems bis face to be ; 

And sad seems his face to be ; 

The widow, the widow% 

Leans not on his arm. 

All sad seems his face to be. 

The priest in his robes, 
As his right seems to be, 
Now orders the call for the two ; 
And a small boy in white 



117 

Gives a trumpet a blow 

And the bride and the groom come below ; 

And the bride and the groom come below ; 

A small boy in white 

Gives a trumpet a blow 

And the bride and the groom come below. 

The father must now give the bride away. 
But he knew not the bridegroom's name; 
The priest spoke the words, Timoth}^ Strom, 
And the father fell down and cried ; 
And the father fell down and cried ; 
And the priest spoke, the name 
Is Timothy Strom, 
And the father fell down and cried. 

Three chevaliers raised him up 
And the bride was given away ; 
Three chevaliers raised him up 
And the bride was given away. 

The priest to the church and law did his duty, 
And Tim and Sue had married a beaaty , 
For the man she had wed was the fairest o f men 
Or above the average of human ken. 

When Tim dressed up the gentleman appeared ; 
Small mouth, pretty lips, and flowing beard, 
High forehead, dark eyes and hair. 
Skin smooth and complexion fair. 

Smooth round wrist and small left hand, 
Ease of manner and face not tanned, 
Grace ot movement at full command, 
Five feet eleven we see him stand. 

Becoming dress, straight and erect, • 
In attitude and smile most circumspect; 



118 

Fastidious taste to mein not object, 

To humor stealing, to feeling elect. 

And none would say that the clothes he wore 

Had lain 'ong in any store, 

Nov felt the taste was unbecoming. 

To scrutiny was unassuming. 

And by his side, his angel wife. 
Shone forth the excellence of simple life; 
No expectant suasion ruled her, 
No fickle fancy ever fooled her. 

The olive and the lily cheeked her ; 
Symmetry, with ease of waist, weighed her ; 
Fullness and broadness of breast, 
With modesty to give it zest. 
Impressed her. 

Jet black hair grew low to brow, 
And fell in curls just anyhow; 
Dark brown eyes shed soft their light 
With a luster clear and bright. 

The glow of health from cheek inspires 

Dying hope to cast desire s ; 

In nose has nature played a part 

In prettiness defying arr. 

In mouth and chin the sculptures meet 
And take their oath to know defeat ; 
Expression wears so sweet a smile 
As moves creation's sons of toil. 

Her dress was pretty and white as snow, 
And all things costly that she had on ; 
And on her finger a diamond shone. 
The gift of mother dead and gone. 



119 

About her neck a chain of gold ; 
The like hath not a legion told ; 
So curious wrought to scene allowing, 
Each link presents an angel bowing. 

And as the face of image turn 
To the heart where love's sweet tires burn, 
The golden links all seem to say 
"Cllorious is thy wedding day." 

As farmers hold the sickle to the grain and pause, 
List'ning to the dinner horn's high twelve laws, 
So the voice of the clergy held the invited throng 
'Till porter sounds the dinner gong. 

This the preacher knew full well, 
And strove precedents to excel 3 
And signed the boy all dressed in white 
To sound the silver trump's delight. 

"^he march ! the march ! the tingle tambourine, 
And now behold the dinner scene; 
'Tis when love's gush of joy's appeals 
The most like feasting, hunger feels. 

Serving from the tables, serving from the stand. 
Serving every taste, porters in command ; 
Serving from the table, serving from the hand, 
Another link is added to blessing in the land. 
Sing a song of white sparrows fluttering over cake; 
Sing a song of pretty hands coming for the take ; 
Sing a song of damsel, to her lover say, 
"Give me taste of honey off of silver tray." 
Sing a song of jubilee : Crod bless the land ; 
We feel so heart united, we've little self-command ; 
Sing a song of glory — the table doth adorn ; 
Sing a song of gladness over any horn. 



120 
Join the merry laughter marching back to hall, 
Feels no dwarfish sj^mptom, feeling not so small, 
Had rather be a fasting at the trumpter's call, 
For them a full and ])lenty is sure to bless us all. 

And now they talk of other days, 
Society's rules and change of ways; 
Which called to mind the things of art, — 
Home in portrait took the stari. 

Chadic joined a friend of other days, 
Who suited him in most of ways; 
At intervals each tipped the wine 
That held the strength of native vine; 

And told his friend he'd made mistake 
Where to a courtship did relate, 
With a widow of little or no estate, 
Who acted a kind of subtle bait 
To banish peace and build up hate. 

She had come and lived within his house, — 
He had courted her as still as mouse; 
Suspicion stood all "nix come a rouse." 

Tim, her son, a beggar came, — 
T never asked for his <jther name ; 
He has married my daughter all the same, 
But the widow refused to change hei* name. 
'Twas to banish hate and build up peace 
The reason her heart would you release ; 
Tim her hopes was cool to slaughter 
When he would wed her lover's daughter 
Wearing disguise, with a spade he came. 
And one fingered Tim was thought his name. 
Sue painted her mad the day Tim came. 
She could sweep the house, but not her brain ; 



121 

And if she spied, which sure she had, 
No wonder that the maid was mad. 

Against a widow no plan is laid 
By Sue, because she called her maid ; 
But Tim could know his gentle mother 
Was under Chadic's reigning cover. 

And none would likely find him out, 
He came when she was not about; 
This he proved, save one short call. 
When scattered presence found them all. 

But Tim's a man of noble mien ; 

It never entered thought or scene, 

His mother would marrj^ the man she served, — 

Far better thoughts had he reserved. 

But rather himself would try to win 
And marry the painting a fish to swim; 
And marry the girl who drew design 
To say tht painting and girl are mine. 

Zounds! Said Chadic, it sounds like Tim. 
He is right, thought Strom, for I am him : 
His friend has clothed me in disguise, 
To draw him off with kind surprise. 

Since you have bit the wedding cake, 
You must the widow Strom forsake; 
Nor let the past come up again, — 
'Twould only give you heart-felt pain. 

Have you heard there arrived, on evening train 

The artist Harrold back home again? 

And he with him a painting brought 

Of "Hotoe, Sweet Home " in gildings wrought. 

And the painting's to hang in the greater ha//, 



122 

This very day exposed to all ; 

Listen 'tis the trumpters call from wine 

And the artist is there with painting fine. 

Thc}^ arose and went to the hall, 
Where hung a painting high on the wall ; 
It was Chadie's old store and early home 
That the urtist Harrold brought from Kome. 

And Mary stood in the olden door 
Just as she looked in the clothes she wore; 
And Wesle}^ a boy played on the lawn 
With a curly dog and a spotted fawn . 

Standing by the rack in front of the store, 

Customers hitching in days before, 

Otliers emerging bearing merchandise; 

When Chadic saw this there were tears in his eyes. 

He stepped up to join her as one been from home, 
It was only a picture brought from Home; 
Yet it called to his mind years that were gone, 
Was an image correct of his only son. 

And it brought to his mind a scene of the past: — 
The town of his youth had grown very fast; 
Where his store as a merchant was first lain in 
All lost in a street his home had been. 

Thus the olden house with windows small 
Had gone with the rest when went them all; 
Where fields were clearing from forest nigh 
Stood towering walls four stories high. 

Under the tree in the picture seen, 

Mary would come when the leaves were green; 

The boy and the fawn and Barco played 

On a mound that dirt from an apple cave made. 



123 

The youth of his life, the child at play, 
Was plain in the picture he saw that day; 
And Mary all lovely stood in the door, 
And Wcss asleep in on the floor ; 

Which carried hi in back to days of yore, 
To count up hift life beyond three score, 
He had married once, would marry no more, 
Would Mary rejoin when life was o'er. 

Break rank was played to lover and maid 
By the boy all dressed in white ; 
The wedding that da}^ the feast and play, 
Eemembered with heart's delight. 

Years had gone on as they ever have done, 

Since Sue's married life begun; 

I will tell of Iier joys without alloys, 

It is just as her life had run. 

I visit her home, — 'tis lovely aud grand; 
Find Tim in charge of the store; 
The aged man I met at the gate 
Was a man I had seen before. 

Susan was gay, the children at play, 
She had nothing to wish or to win; 
The cares of her life had never felt strife, 
So peaceful her life had been. 

Peace and plenty bad been her lot, — 
Happy she was with her lover Tim; 
She had never forgot the day that was hot 
When she painted a fish to swim. 



124 

THE BONNER PLACE. 

You get to this place by a very good road, 
That is if you go from city; 
In fact, by good roads on which you see loads, 
That' to fancy are rather fitty. 

There's a pleaxanter rise and fall. 
In the country around this place 
Than artists a thousand miles awa}" 
Have painted a single trace. 

The Yellow Springs country is lelt out of sight, 
And Cedar Cliff's fair under sk}^ ; 
For the Bonner place left to the heart, 
For a paradise left the eye. 

You leave the road, the Burlington pike, 
And drive down through the grounds ; 
You don't get far descending though 
Until the tumble of mounds. 

They begin just after you cross a stream — 
It never runs dry to the eye is seen ; 
But trickles and trills, and tickles the ear. 
Nor changes its murmuring all the year. 

In crossing this stream you must look right back 
To see what to fancy the south banks lack ; 
For there the high bank curves to the left. 
And deep in its side is a chasm cleft. 

In the hurrying of a rill coming down from a plain. 
Is the cause of the break to the bank in main ; 
The rill adding water to greater stream, 
The cause of the break to all must seem. 

By close observation, the thing only needed, 
To the full of the fancy has the look succeeded ; 



125 
With a turn up the hill and whirl to the riij;ht, 
We stop for to wonder, compelled by the sight. 

But before we proceed to further describe, 
We recross the stream the scene to imbibe. 
There a three quarter circle within ti half circle 
Lies just to the right, near the ford ; 
Just how they were made I will have essayed. 
When you've taken a poet's word. 

During floods of rain the creek o'erflowed 
And the waters formed a swirl, 
And left the impression, ?_ot very deep. 
Where the torrent went with a whirl. 

Relenting the bank on the opposite side 
The stream had rushed from its bed. 
And around by a tall old hickory tree 
The maddened torrent sped, 

And back into creek to widen in valley 
Submerged in the overflow; 

And the force of the then mad stream ma}^ be seen 
Near the creek wherever we go. 

And now you cross the stream a third time, 
At the place you crossed before; 
And start at the point you left, to go back, 
The grounds to further explore. 

You walk up a slope to a beautiful enclosure, 
Where some go to weep and others to pleasure ; 
Within this squifre of brick laid walls, 
Sheltered by trees from tempest squalls, 
Rests Frederick Bonner, a man well-known ; 
Around him thick the dead are strown. 
We read these words, they come of thought, 
And not on leaf or stone are wrought : 



126 

" Hace IP run, life is o'er and set is sun." 
Dread monster flees within the scene 
Where bluffs the bank and trickles stream. 
The voice of winds through trees enchant ; 
For rest like his the millions pant, 
Nor fearing spirit dread the haunt. 

Of his friends, a few^ are around him sleeping, 

O'er their graves is myrtle creeping. 

For each dead friend, a thousand living 

Still know his hand was always giving ; 

His sun went down and deep it set. 

On face of living, lo ! one regret; 

Among mankind few such — 

Few, such as he are met. 

1 met him one morning riding along, 

'Twas nineteen years ago ; 

I met him and the way he went 

Was not the way I'd go. 

He pointed to a structure, 
"Did you pass by that, said he ; 
'• If you haven't anything special to do, 
Turn back and go with me." 

I refused him then as often I'd done 
Others who had long proved my friend ; 
For the phice and the sake he was going 
I had no time to spend. 

I asked him to sketch to me the country 
As it appeared in years agone ; 
And he told of the place he'd come to. 
The history still went on, 

And took in the fields in prospect 
As by them he rode along slow j 



127 

" I feel to-day," he said, "like 

A heart that is stricken with woe.' 

Never I think of the tall old man. 
Never I think of his long gray beard, 
Never I think of the thoughts I thought, 
Till low comes back the voice I heard. 

Deep from the heart its tones still come. 
And lead is mind from old to young ; 
And past events so swiftly tell 
The truth on ear that then so fell. 

" When you have reached," said he, " my day, 
' Twill be forgotten how the country lay ; 
The greater part in wilderness and wild, 
So*dark and drear to mother and child, 
At least to me," and then he smiled. 

" For I came with my father and a silent band, 

My mother's care had left my hand, 

" We all had left a dear old home. 

And oft looked back mid silent gloom 

To what we'd left, to what we'd come. 

Or what we'd swapped for what was young." 

And as he sketched around about, 
Little of scene was left in doubi:; 
For he dealt it out by old farm range, 
Particular he was to mark the change 
From the time gone by in early day. 
To laying out the smooth highway. 
It touched m}^ heart to hear him tell 
How many of his neighbors ein ce had fell, 
To make the country what it was, 
With all its churches, schools and laws. 
We'd cease for the time to write of him; 



128 

For the eye growR dim with tear ; 
But we hear the bird in cedar Ringing, 
The Autumn time of year. 

And the days of oar life may nut hold out 

To write of his name again; 

And we love to say to his memory, 

To think of him gives no pain. 

VVe know 'tis given all mortals to die 

We know it is dust to dust. 

Yet we fieel in our hearts thy friendship, Frederic, 

Helps to rub away the rust. 

And we look from the dark to the future, 

When the glory of a changeless sheen 

Shall shine about thee, Frederic, 

Explaining what we mean; 

What we mean when we say thy friendship 

Was Christ in the very sake; 

For thy hand was always to the poor man 

A hand that gave in the take. 

We will think no more of the valley, 
No more of the heart's withered leaf, 
But think of the wearing of glory 
Just after the mental brief. 
Just after the day dawned fairly 
That u'oubled a close 'fore night, 
We'll think of the swell of the new dawn 
The God's eternal bright. 

And I swear by my trust to join you, 
I swear that it won't be long , 
I swear by the trump and the angel 
The birds shall cease their song ; 
Shall cease their song that sing here, 



129 

Shall cease to my very ear, 

For I'll join the host that's immortal 

Since thou art friend not here. 

Good bye, till we see the flowers. 
Nourished by agency hand, 
Intrusted with this grand estate, 
To which is left the land. 

The father being dead doesn't chani^e the place. 
His son has kept with care the trace, 
And well carried out a father's plans, 
And day by day applies his hands; 

And adds to life's prospective way 
More than song or sweetest lay, 
And finds the emblem suited to the heart, 
That father sought and had in part. 

And adds to it more hues and shades 
Than harkness pinned to balustrades; 
And Oh, how sweet is Autumn time; 
As pretty in North, as Southern clime. 

For here we have the yellow leaf. 
Between the heat and cold the brief, 
Durinor vvliich the flowers sweet 
Shed luster to the gaze they meet. 

And landscape to the eye is grai«d, 
And waters kiss their border land;^ 
And threaten'seye the deep green larch, 
So sweeten times swift onward march. 

The cypress stands all dressed in red, 
Tempting golden fir to wed: 
And to the north the in and out 
Of sugars iji'ove to waters rout. 



130 

Within and out of bank and stream 
Invites the brush to paint the hcene. 

Paint me in whisper speaks tlie rill, 
The bank from me has drank its fill; 
Just westward thought forgets the scene, 
That fancy tii-st had thrown to dream. 
For there's a pond where ducks go to swim 
On the side of a hill, deep dug in ; 
In shape, an oblong, neat and grand, 
Above the rocks, above the sand, 

And bordered round with greenest grass, 
On which is room for ducks to pass. 
And fall of hill from above and below 
Protects the pond when winds do blow. 

Emerging from a deep laid t ile; 
Is spring in sparkle list and smile, 
And pond from de))th so clear and bright 
That duck sees duck to duck's delight; 

For duck seeing duck in deep water clear, 
Caused duck to quack duck's heart to cheer; 
Then depth of soul is sought, to find 
What brought up image to the mind. 

And lo, 'twas found the pool so bright 
Had furnished soul all its delight; 
And mind could feel no great regret 
For other object later met. 

A house next takes its place in mind, 
The object stands to worth inclined: 
Nor strips the border of a pond^ 
To lavish more on pleasure ground. 

For the rise, romantic sweet and grand, 



131 

Still hiirlier above the rocks and sand, 
Could not be found to please the eye, 
But for the creek and pond so nigh. 

For forever escape that house has made 
Without the aid of balustrade; 
Nor were the ducks a trouble to the mind, 
That pond them off where earth declined. 

The old house and new and shad}^ lawn 
Were things considered in years agone; 
From original tract of a thousand acres, 
Was carved this spot for a few of the takers. 

This place so known as the Bonner lot, 
Kemains to his name, the spot of the spot. 
And here desire centers care. 
To lavish things so very rare. 

Well provided for comfort is found estate ; 

For better in its day needs long to wait; 

The house stands a block fronting four ways to 

wind; 
Its foundation being rock is well underpinned. 

Has doorways and windows, to all ways it fronts; 
Just east of east door, the high ground blunts. 
Leaving cozy retreat, when the sun has gone 

round, 
And when the wind blows, is sheltered by ground. 

And a rise of the head, from chin's gentle drop. 
Brings trees into view from roots to top ; 
And cheerful they stand presented in grove 
By the hand of Grod, to tell of his love. 
The contrast of dress in nature's display, 
Transembles, dissembles, in rich array ; 
With the whisper of breeze to the modest fir, 



132 

Comes the hiss of the cedar, yo winds want her. 

Although she has riches in countless gold, 
She blushes in autumn and fades with the cold. 
"There, there, Miss Cedar, don't be so spunky! 
With all your deep green, j^ou have no monkey. 

But I have them scrambling all over my branches, 
'Till the world comes to see my monkey-bough 

ranches." 
"Yes, in spring time you mean," said the cypress 

in red, 
"Before autumn winds your monkeys are dead. 

"Serve no more reminders to catch a solt breeze; 
I'm red about you Miss dead monkey cheese." 
"You are vam about dress," speaks Miss modest 

fir: 
"You're green as can be," waved back with a slur. 

Then came the winds a sighing 

For the music of the trees ; 

And they harped with tender branches. 

Wind a worry breeze. 

This started up the monkeys, brown upon the 
twigs; 

Great a spool, a coney, called for monkey jigs. 

Breeze a will of weather, played a quick and nim- 
ble larch ; 

The stiffness of the spruce pine lost a little starch. 

And then a pretty brown thrush chirped a twi-la- 

la. 
Hide away in trees, ye monkeys, this is Sabbath 

day. 
At last sad loving philomel, a bird that swells its 

breast, 



133 

Sang, "Feels my heart so lonely, he's gone to his 

rest." 
So will run imagination 
While ye stand ; stand between tlie house and 

trees, 
'Till a spirit passes by you, gentle like the breeze. 

'Tis after you hear the footstep.^- 
At the verge of the old gray sill ; 
He'll pass you in a moment 
Then hush, and be ye still. 

He is passing, he is passing, 

And going back to rest. 

While wing, the wind, the songster, 

Smoothes the feathers on his bre.ist. 

Then round the house, then round the house, 
Gro, ye throng of gay ! 
Wing, the wind, the songster, 
Has flown far away. 

His home is in the wild wood , 
There late in the day he'll stay ; 
Only when 'tis you're coming 
Is some other day. 

Then he coming is sure to be, 
For the s^Dirit had to him come. 
To say of a score of his blessed ones, 
Sad bird, thou art one of the same. 

Between house and barn is a valley, 
That was beautiful once to see; 
There the red men plaj^ed ^yith children 
Eolling the timbalee. 

And the Indians shot with arrows. 



134 

With darts in the end they flew, 
And hit the mark in the barnyard ; 
TJie country then was new. 

'Twas a deep dense forest of wild growth, 
Amonir which the leather wood grew ; 
When you had no whang to tie your shoe,* 
A leatherwood string would do. 

With a leatherwood lash a many a time, 
Tied to a hickory stalk, 
I've cut off a thistle as sleek as a whistle, 
Yes, with a lash as white as chalk. 

Lying about on the ground for miles around, 
Were darts of curious stone ; 
Some were pink and some were black, 
And some the color of roan. 

Frederic's father, I'm told, the boy would scold 
For gathering them up while at play. 
And he often told, when he did not scold 
Him, to keep them out of his way. 

For they got in the hay and were found all astray 
Where the children were wont to play ; 
Call at the liouse tor a buckskin blouse, — 
There are some in the sleeve to this day. 

And Fred saved up to roll for the pup 

Some balls of pretty blue clay ; 

They were rolled on the ground, just where they 

were found 
By the Indian boys at play. 

And you'll see tiny darts notched at one end, 
Where the red boy fastened his arrow ; 
With a string and a bow the arrow to throw, 



135 

He could clip off the head of a sparrow. 

See a stump on the way. where they had their 

play,— 
'Twas then thickset with trees, 
One of them dripping with honey, 
Made by the busy bees. 

There they played the tymbalee, 
All merry, all happy and bright; 
Since then O ! where have they gone ? 
Is their happiness darkened with night? 

Fenced off to the west is the woodland, 
And fronting it, pastures green ; 
Look over the thousand acres, — 
The farmers have reaped their glean. 
Then think before you forget to, 
Is it like young Frederic seen ? 
Come let us go see with the green-house 
The countless hues and shades; 
Let us hurry; I see the gardeners 
Laying; away their spades. 

Will you love the place you have been to see ? 

Clothed like a priest the golden fir tree, 

And green larch yellow sometime to be, 

With scrambling cone monkeys down the limbs, 

do you see ? 
Ah, glad is my heart while I write such a place '. 
Eternal in memory, I'll give it a face. 

Grod gives among flowers the violet blue, — 
Eeminded we are of his friendship true , 
Such everlasting has been to the world, 
Since his sk}^ in blue his hand unfurled. 
Around the barn go rambling, where 



136 

Once was forest in years agone ; 

Think when the Indians played, 

And when you have thought, think on. 

Come now, let us go to drink at the spring, — 
'Tis about the time we should go ; 
The day is far aloni^ to where we had gone, 
And the sun is getting low. 

Now bid good-bye to the shadow 

Of the spirit on the wall ; 

'Tis the height of a man when he labors ; 

He stands there spare and tall. 

There, he flitted by us ! yes, to join the ble<st ! 

For wing, the wind, the songster 

Is singing him back to rest. 

Go ye there another day 
For now ye know the way. 
October, 1886. 



UNKNOWN. 

Over a body blue the canopy ; 
Stars of night had fled from day ; 
Croaked a raven from a bough, 
Over where a body lay. 

'Twas a highway; near had strayed 
He who fell stroke had senseless laid,- 
Yea, had killed dead, — 
For all the spark of life had fled. 

No path appears, nor step is heard, — 
All is loneliness, no song of bird ; 
There lies a body stiff and cold, 
Not of beast, but mortal mould. 



137 

Here the day dawns slow ; 

Here the moss to tree-trunks grow ; 

Here 'neath the tree's close packed bough, 

Reigns solitude in strange somehow. 

What the conflict, what the mental mood, 
That fled the brighter haunts of men ? 
Whose lead that found this solitude, 
This unthought find to human ken ? 

On the face of the dead a dew drop lay, 
So like a tear beneath the eye ; 
And over his features a smilo at play, 
And near at his side a serpent lay. 

Just by the temple, close by the ear, 
A drop of blood and scar appear. 
Clutched by the hand a dagger's hilt, 
Whose glitterings bore no stain of guilt. 

The other hand was pressed to side. 
Over a pool of crimson tide ; 
No rent appeared in the clothes he wore, 
Save the one just over the gore. 

Beautiful in death, fair to look upon, 

Save that his life-blood moved not on ; 

Felt not the night's chill, knew not the morning; 

Left yet the birth stamp pale in its warning. 

High born he died here, low born led him here. 
Sorrowing? no ; regretting? not for the tear. 
Lost his way? no ; nor died he through fear ; 
Some one smiled, and killed him here. 



138 
SOUL IMMORTAL FLEE AWAY. 

. Written at the bedside of one dying July, 1869. 

Flee away tliQii soul, 

Flee from the liaunts of thy people ; 
Flee away trom the place 
.Of the highest steeple. 

Flee away beyond the sun's coming power ; 
Flee away beyond the stars, coming hour ; 
Flee away from day and night: 
Flee from the earth's seen sij^cht. 

Born of mortal not to live 'till dead first. 
To drink, to quench, but still thirst; 
Flee as unto refuge saint, 
Lost thou hast through time the taint 
That cast thee down to lower plain, 
To body leave, but not the soul remain. 

Hounds the world after thee taking up eacli 

track, 
Eight or left where look thee back, 
And where sat down through fear , 
Howl they the gone was like us here, 
To leave poor mortals yet no cheer, 
Church turns upon saint to sneer ; 
Flee and stay not here. 

Flee while the angel stands late at the portal; 
Flee, for thou art made more than mortal ; 
Flee, for Christ now bids thee come 
Beyond this world to heaven, thj^ home. 



SACEED TO THE MEMOEY OF ELIZA, WIFE 
OF THE AUTHOE OF THIS BOOK. 

Ever the vine to shrub-tree clinging, 
Ever the bird in the cedar singing, 



139 

Ever the myrtle's crept from creeping, 
Mingle scenes where she is sleeping. 

Never a thought is fond hope robbing, 
Never n heart -felt pulse is throbbing, 
Never u sever ot the birth link chain 
That we in heaven shall meet again. 

Around th}^ grave a thousand sleeping, 
Oft to them their friends come weeping ; 
Though they ofttimes pass thee by, 
A tear is left for you and I. 

Marble and granite round thee standing, 
Eeared to name at wealth's commanding, 
Obstructed not to thee the view ; 
Nothing stands to rae and you. 

Brand the mercies o'er thee hover, 
Earth and canopy thy cover ; 
More than that a faith that finds thee 
Where in earth thy body lies. 

Under his eye prepared is mansion, 
In new bright world above the skies; 
He has said it, I'll prepare it, 
For the soul that never dies. 



POLLIE AND HEK WHEEL. 

There's a wheel in my mind still humming, 

That I heard long years ago; 
And the sound is a change from rapid, 

To backing and turning slow. 

And I hear bare feet a patting 

On a floor scrubbed clean and bright ; 
The coming and backing footsteps 



140 
Are those of Pollie White. 

1 11 go back to a day when Pollie smiled, 

As I stepped within the door, 
And left her wheel to hand me a chair 

In on the ash-wood floor. 

There's reception that moves the heart to love, 
There's a start in the feeling chord; 

There's a something deej) that actions prove 
Apart from the winning word. 

She applied to the spindle a soft fleece roll, 
And backed as she turned the wheel. 

And spun out yarn all even aud smooth, 
Wound it up on the spindle to reel. 

xlnd as she spun, the speed increased 
'Till the old wheel fairly hummed; 

And spindled the yarn and spliced on a roll, 
Never saw how the splice was thumbed. 

It started the earnest soul indeed. 
For a chance to speak to the girl ; 

With steps increased she handled the fleece 
Involved in the mighty whirl. 

I ventured at last to get in a word, — 

jTwas caught by a willing ear; 
I noticed her eye as she came looking shy. 

Was dimmed for a time with a tear. 

Still she continued to come and go, 
Nor slackened the speed of the wheel; 

I couldn't descry what made her cry, — 
How curious it made me feel. 

Sweeter aud sweeter, I thought of the word — 
Had it moved her soul to tears ? 



141 

I believe it had, and it makes me sad 
As I look through thirty years. 

I never married Pollie, it could not be. 

For God hadn't ordered it so , 
It made no difference, her spinning neat. 

Or the wheel running fast or slow. 

She could marry a man to suit her much 
better, 
But this she didn't then know ; 
As she thought things o'er and patted the 
floor. 
And made the old wheel go. 

PoUie^^looks old and her head is gray, 
The children she bore are dead ; 

Sweeter and sweeter recurs to mind, 
For the sake of the words I said. 
1886, 

LOYE AT FIEST SIGHT. 

How pretty's the girl I saw today ! 

vShe lives on the Burlington pike. 

I'm glad her I found, she never once frowned, 

— It must be she's born for Ike. 

The larks that sing in the morning 
Have not her sweetness of voice, 
And never their wing nor song they sing 
Excites a bit of my choice. 

But the girl with the hair 
And the breathed very air 
Is a living, though life is short. 
For me rest of earth 
Has never a mirth, 



142 

For a wife the girl is the sort. 

I'll lavish my wit, 

Then stop and wait a bit, 

And try to think something more ; 

I'll tell her the truth, 

She's my life's very youth — 

Can't help it, the girl I adore. 

Why, she lived on the pike. 
And smiled at young Ike ; 
Why, the tree boughs toss to her charms 
Are left without answer. 
"Hang me ! I'll chance her ; 
Perhaps she'll come to my arms." 

''Pretty Cora, I'm thinking. 

My chances all shrinking. 

Because so nigh is the city ; 

I need not ask why, 

To your fancy I die 

When I think of the suits that are fitty." 

The young flasher tried. 

And ne'er was denied 

Anything he said being true ; 

Then, wiping her eye, 

She said with a sigh, 

"I'll marry nobody but you." 



WHEN YOUTH MAKES US GLAD 
AND AGE MAKES US SAD. 

When the farmer has sown the wheat-grains, 
And the corn is stood in shock, 
There's a rest invites the weary, 
There's a fold invites the flock. 



143 

There's a golden quench of the sunlight, 
There's a shadowy sweet with the fall ; 
There's a lingering kiss of the twilight 
Before the dark, over all. 
There's a peace around the hearth -stone, 
There's a face in the ember's glow ; 
There's a satisfied of longing ; 
There's a saved for wet and snow. 
There's a crimson of gold on the pippin 
That borders with the silver of tray ; 
There's expression of the full and plenty 
In a few of the fruit gone astray. 
There's an amber sweet in the cider, 
That quaifs with the snap of the frost ; 
There's coming to the cheek of the maiden 
A look she thought she had lost. 
There's a chat going 'round of the bygones, 
A told from whence others came — 
The old folks, we mean, of the circle; 
There's a mention of maiden's name. 
Grow glad the old folks' children, 
And their'rf coming in for a share ; 
Notice the grandmas hiding 
The gray that sprinkles their hair. 
Taken up is the half-knit stocking, 
Straightened out the kink in the yarn ; 
A falling in love with the lively 
When the boys come in irom the barn. 
Hallelujah, to the pippins a plenty , 
Hallelujah, to the cider; and then 
A thought again of the hairs gray 
That silver the come around when. 

June 2nd, 1888. 



144 
THE WHEEL OF TIME. 

Not of the will or the ways of man, 
Are the sands of lite kept running ; 

Not by the fixed up ways of the world, 
Is the wheel of time kept humming. 

Not for the mind that wills to do, 
Not for the dollar that I owed to you. 
Not for the reasons, many or few, 
Not for a reason you ever knew. 

But only because its a thing of time; 
Its property is neither yours or mine. 
Because it seeks not ever to find, 
Or sever the link or ties that bind. 

But onward, onward, wither it goes, 
'Tis passing ties that binds, and woes, 
And whither it goes, there's none that knows 
I^ot even the air or the wind that blows. 



COMMANDING WHAT IS RIGHT, PROHIB- 
ITING WHAT IS WRONG. 

My brother did wrong me and swore not to rue it. 
Loudly he cursed me because that I knew it ; 
Cunningly devising he kepi it from mother. 
Ah ! death's dark abode had shut it from father. 

Is it wonder the younger should lean on the 

stronger ? 
Is it pain to the heart when asunder they go? 
The ties do I mean that swear not to sever, 
The fiesh that is one, transmitted forever. 

'Tis true, ah! alas! the same mother nursed us; 
'Tis true tried was fate for its excellent hold ; 



145 

Affection once honored, no more was there said 

of it, 
For the hearts that once loved had forever grown 

cold. 

Eetrospection will I call it, that knew him once 

dear ; 
Love I the scene, that once none could hinder, 
When brother did vow he'd be my defender. 

Just where he said it, is the Williamstown place ; 
There's where began we life's uneven race ; 
There's where he, stronger, once took well my 

part; 
There's where I conquer the core of my heart. 

For then we were young — had little to vex us; 
Chidings of course would come and begone. 
For the loved of our life could conscience throw 

off her, 
And never a scoff could our feelings throw at her. 

Still stands the bed our mother did lie in, 
Pillowed her head after twice she had prayed 
That if ever she failed for the strength of the life 

her — 
That God would remember of what she was made, 

And breathe on her care for her children alike, 
And not from her familj^'s sweet record would 

strike 
Neither William nor Wesley — six more do 1 grieve, 
Including myself, with a heart to deceive. 

Deceive not another, but the senses of head 
That make me believe that my brother was dead, 
For mother prayed on and the second time said : 
"Kepent, all my boys, in sight of this bed.'' 



146 

Let tears tell the rest — my heart ir now free — 
There's naught of a hatred 'twixt brother and 

me, 
The deep wrong he did me removed he with sweat, 
Never again is the tnoiight still is brother in debt. 
1888. 



A POET'S FIND. 

One morning in Spring, while the flowers were 

blooming, 
I traveled a wanderer, af(H)t and alone ; 
I stopped by a grave- mark- -the <AriIds were so 

lonely — 
1 drew out my pencil and wrote on a stone : 

"Sweet Margaret, you died , you the world hath 

forgotten, — 
The palm that was warm lets the wild thistles 

grow, 
The whiter to wear where is high j ow thy 

mansion, 
Hath called thee to fountain to drink of the flow. 

There's a peace like a river in the God's hand the 

giver — 
There's a rest that's prepared for the weary at 

last; 
For the time intervening, wo grow sad and 

meaning 
For the numbering of days by the wheel rushing 

fast. 

The door now is open inviting to shelter, 
Where Margaret invited a lone vvanderer in, 
Who grew up to love her and toiled to support her, 



147 

Then died on the scaffold to answer for sin. 

His sin was he courted the fair and the lovely ; 
His sin was he hated the vain in disguise ; 
His sin was he killed him who falsely so flattered 
That Helen of Downscourt was led off a prize. 

O, God of sweet Margaret and lone wandering 

Tommy ! 
We pray thee to hover them under thy wing ; 
We praise thee for Margaret who once gave him 

shelter, 
We praise thee for birds that do sing here in the 

Spring. 

I will stop here to weep when I pas^ by the cabin ; 
I will linger to weep for the love sick decoy ; 
I will linger to weep for the sw^et soul of Margaret, 
Who lived an old maid for the sake of ths boy. 
July, 1888. 



A MOTHER'S DREAM. 

A poor lone widow grieved for her child, 
For his training required much care ; 

She very well knew that the best she could do, 
Was to turn to the Lord in prayer. 

She prayed half the night, then slept 'till daylight, 

Then related a dream she had ; 
In answer to prayer was gone her de pair. 

And she felt in her soul to be glad. 

The dream went — she heard a knock at the door. 

And she opened to the fairest of men, 
Whose countenence shone more bright than the 

sun, 
And a smile not of human ken. 



148 

'•Come, Kezziah !" ppoke a voice not of man — 
"Come and go," said the beautiful face, 

"Come and go to the Lord's camp-meeting ground, 
And see the glorious place." 

There was something in the call, 
There was something in the man — 

If a man an angel could be — 

That inspired consent, and with him she went, 

The glory of her God to see. 

She was ready to go, had no fixing to do, 

Already was going as seemed ; 
Yet out in the yard, there near by hard 

The glitter of a chariot beamed. 

And seated witliin it, as vision scened it. 

The widow and angel fair ; 
A spirit propelled it, beside compelled it, 

With snow-white horses in air. 

And never a move of a foot did they make, 

And never a change in the course did they take? 

And soon arrived at a pearly gate 

In more than carriage, in more than state. 

In chariot of fire tiiey passed right in, 
Beyond ihe world and outward sin. 

Amid the glory 'round about 

Bethought one heart my boy's left out ; 
Revelation of thoughts spake angel-tongue: 

" What's this ? hearest thou not thy son? 
What is care for the old is care for the young." 

And lo! of a wonder, she hears her child's voice : 
"Where tJiou art, mother, becomes my choice; 

I am coming, I am hastening, near on the way — 
Am the age of a man, with a few hairs gray." 



149 

The mother was joyed, and the changeless sheen 
Was the spirit of all her dream could mean ; 

Despair never seized her mind again, 

For the soul of her child felt never a pain. 

And the care of his keeping off burden was taken, 
Oft tried was her faith, but never was shaken ; 

Contending with world that Christ did atone 
For the doubt in her breast and sins of her son. 



STAE, CITY, BABE. 

Gave the heavens birth to a star, 

And shone it to distance afar, 

'Till it reached the shepherds and herdsmen, 

As gathered together they are. 

One looked at the other in wonder 

As the fleece on the sheejD grew white, 

For the brightness had sweetened the shadow, 

And seasoned the darkness of night. 

They hastened, with countenance beaming, 
With rapture, transporting their joy. 
To where over a manger gleaming 
The light kissed a baby boy. 

This day was the dawning immortal, 
To come to the earth of the saints, 
With sweetness to bless in the excellence, 
Without the touch of a taint. 

And eloquence arrayed all her trophies. 
Spread the muse her sublimest wing, 
Yet the luster produced by the gleaming 
Turned night to the brightness of sprirg. 

Impotent grew tongue to silence, 



150 

For the beauty that round them shone, 
Kemembering them back to prophecy 
That told of this day to come. 

By the holy Jesus hallowed, 
The day dawned bright with the sun ; 
Smiled rill all mooned and silvered, 
So kissed were the waters that run. 

And wore the heavens new luster, 
The Shiloh of promise had come, 
And the barefoot beggar freezing 
Could call the heaven his home. 

For the Christ of early promise 
Had brought to the millions born 
The riches more than fortune, 
A wealth to stand the storm. 

Had brought about the tidings 

Auspicious of that day ; 

Seen through the dark of ages 

By the prophet that sat by the way. 

Confounded were all the rulers 
Who tell through the vain decoy, 
That searched for the mother and child 
To destroy the baby boy. 

For the God who knew well the nature, 
And well to plan for his Son, 
Keturned the worshipping seekers 
By a way they had never come. 

Fulfilled to the word was the saying, 

"Bethlehem is not to be least 

Of the cities of all Judea," 

For the born to her more than priest. 



151 

For the born and laid in tl»e manger, 
The beautiful spotless One ; 
.For the signal shone where was laid him, 
For the christening brighter than sun. 

For the scene of redemption opened 
To the millions enquiring, "Wliere?" 
For the answer at the greatest city, 
For the Christ, the Lord, born there ; 

For a house of bread created her, 
And a house of bread she became. 
And born in her God's sweet baby, 
There's nothing left to reclaim. 

If coulds be fretted the sweetness 
To get in all of its shine, 
And kiss with all of its brightness 
The baby boy divine. 

I feel in my heart the reclaiming, 
1 feel like the child when caressed, 
I feel that the least of the cities 
Has become the song of my breast. 



TIM'S SOLILOQUY. 

No wealth beguiles me, no fortune in store, 
I've clothes and a living, I want no more ; 
Contented I am to know is my lot, 
A cottage and garden that toil for me got. 

With my dog and my gun I have lots of fun, — 
A fishing can sit by the brook; 
While the miser goes lean and ragged and mean, 
I'm renewirig the bait on my hook. 

'Tis about the time that the suckers bite, 
'.Neath the willows the water is still ; 



152 

I can fish here a while, then go a short mile, 
And fish by old Canada's mill. 

The cows will come up of their own accord, 
And Nancy will milk without me; 
I'll wait till its dark, then Susan I'll spark, 
For I like her good as can be. 

And maybe I'll marry the girl sometime, 
For I know we'd always agree ; 
She likini^ fish my fishing would wish, 
With a smile on her face — Do you see? 

But there's pretty Nancy, to her I spoke a fancy — 
There's something gone contrary with the hook ; 
I'll pull out and change the bait, a little longer wait, 
And try to fish according to the book. 

And Nancy to me said, "My parents both are dead, 

I feel so very lonely when you're gone." 

Then I nearly popped the question — it needs but 

one suggestion : 
"Be mine, my Nancy dear," in place of fawn. 
And Nancy will cut a caper, if I try to now escape 
So I'd better stay a fishing 'till the dawn. [her. 

Why, what's become of the creek? If it don't the 

skillet lick ! 
There's an image in a glass as sure as life ! 
He had not long to wait, a fish had caught the bait, 
And Nancy said, "O, yes, I'll be your wife." 

Soon she and Tim were wed, and laughed at what 

was said 
When Tim was thinking loud about the girls, 
When Nancy's face in water of Susan's made a 

slaughter, 
And the fish he caught was even wearing curls. 



153 
GAMBLING DISPATCHES. 

Tattle! tattle! tattle I 
Ship-sheep, hogs and cattle I 
Send the money by express, 
Not a sino^le dollar less ; 
No other time will do as well. 
Or I would not the cattle sell. 
John will see the cattle through, 
After which will talk with you. 

P. Z. to C. L, 

ANSWER. 

Cattle, sheep and hogs arrive, 
Glad to find them all alive ; 
Send your price for all the cattle, 
Glad to make the wire rattle. 

All the talk I had with John 
Was 'bout a silver watch to pawn ; 
Enter the price of hogs and sheep — 
I leave with you the books to keep. 

P. 8. 

To look at stock, 
I'll come next fall ; 
Don't think to sell, 
I'll take them all. 

Bless me ! here's old Zin ! 
For all you shipped 
Have got the tin. 
Am ready now 
To go with John 
And see for what 
The watch will pawn. 
Love in short, 



154 
Life is sport. 



C. LiGHTFOOT. 



LATER. 
TO CHIEF OF POLICE. 

Arrest u worse than tliicf, 

A counterfeiter in bi'ief ; 

Seize my cattle sheep and ho.i^s; 

Hunt up my John, 

My watch and dogs. 

p. 8. 
I'm ready to cleave the air 
On swiftest train — 
I'll soon be there. 



All he's ofot is 



&' 



sure m}' nionej' ; 



His tongue is sweeter 
Than butter and hone}'. 

Peter Zolman. 



WEAEING A DOUBT. 

For the hide of a goat and tliat of a lamb, 
For the door of the sheep-fold shut with a slam ; 
Abel had taken of che flocks of his brother, 
And offered for self the rights of another. 

Cain, missinsc his lamb and missing his goat, 
Kepviired to the fold and hung up his coat; 
Concealing himself he waited the return 
Of Abel, his brother, the ti-uth to learn. 

Soon entered young Abel, M-earing apron of palm; 
When opened up Cain : ''What's the word of 

1 Am r 
''All's well, except that be oi'ders these skins. 



155 
''How is it my brother, your late with your sins?'' 

CAIN. 

"Of my flocks has been taken the ones I would slay; 
I ask thee for thine now that mine is astray. 
For my waiting th}' coming [ forecast the welts, 
For what's happened me, thee must bring other 
pelts." 

ABEL. 

" For thee I atoned with a goat by the way, 
And left here its hide till now in the day, — 
This hide of a lamb that was killed by a ram.'' 
Then shut went the door of the fold with a slam. 

CAIN. 

" Stop, stop, my brother ! Come face right about, 
The story thee's told leaves the lamb all in doubt; 
Ah! to offer for me a thieving went thee, 
I'll kill thee, thou liar, and then who's me?" 

I AM. 

"Where art thou, Cain ? there's a cry from the 

ground, — 
It is near where thy coatoff thy back now is found ; 
From hence 'round the circle, in making thy 

inning, 
Shall be to thee blood for the skin of the skinning." 

"Inasmuch as the foolish made pretense lo me. 
Thy face lo thy neighbor forever shall be 
A lace wearing doubt, when of world's being tried. 
To rtimember me back from where Abel died." 



156 

GAEIBALDI AND HIS RIDEE, CAPTAIN 
THOMPSON, OF THE 5TH O. V. C. 

Garibaldi, a charger, was nimble and strong, 
And knew from appearance the one in the wrong, 
Then eliamping liis bit, keened down on therein, 
Passing quick to the front over wounded and slain. 

The Captain who rode him shied not the danger; 
Pursuiiui; the host like some blood aveno-er, 
Onward the mad horse galloped ahead. 
Nor slipped as he trod on the brain of the dead. 

And brought his bold rider to front of retreat, 
And loud were the cheers the Captain to greet. 
"Halt," said the Captain, -'You're prisoners of war." 
His face wearing crimson of dirt, sweat and gore. 

Hove in sight rebel forces to regain the day, 
But the Captain and horse had got in their play, 
And turning about marched prisoners to rear. 
All trailing their arms in terror and fear. 

The great strong horse was a bright blood bay, 
With a breast like a lion, and back some a sway ; 
With quarters and limbs that bear with them 

strength, 
With muscles sufficient to gather his length. 

The Captain resolved from the depth of his heart 
There was one horse and rider that never would 

part ; 
That in Walnut Hills meadows Garibaldi should 

graze, 
And be sheltered^from storm to the end of his days. 

Alas ! for the fortunes when strife is not o'er, 
The Captain in anguish now over them pour ; 



157 

For he was commanded to accompany home 
The 61st boys that to war with him come. 

The journey woukl be by stcamslnp and rail ; 
To take Garibaldi forever must fail. 

Stern was the order and stubborn the heart ; 
With comrades or horse the Captain must part. 
He turned to the weather-beaten faces and said, 
"For the sake ol the horse I wi^^h I was dead. 

"But for your sake, comrades, com])elled I'm to 

live ; 
I've nothing but honor ni}^ country to give." 
Then said to his servant, with face pale and wan, 
"Take this purse of gold, mount the horse, and 

be gone. 

"Inquire the way, over hill and plain, 
And great is reward if we meet again." 
The servant rode away as oft-times before, 
Not seen by the Captain the horse any more. 



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